


reach the heavens own blue

by loubellies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Baseball Inaccuracies, Blow Jobs, Boston Red Sox, Bottom Louis, Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Harry Has Long Hair, Harry has a big dick, Jealous Harry, Locker Room, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s), New York Yankees, Rimming, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Top Harry, Unsafe Sex, mechanical bull, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loubellies/pseuds/loubellies
Summary: He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him.Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one.or Louis is a Boston Red Sox and Harry is a New York Yankee.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 693





	reach the heavens own blue

**Author's Note:**

> It's FINALLY here! This fic has truly taken a village to complete and I have so many to thank. First of all, thank you to Kat (@lwtisgolden) for always supporting me and always believing in me. I love youuuu! Big thank you to Hannah (@softlouislove) for beta-ing and reassuring me when I was struggling with my vision. Both of you are always so patient with me and you have no idea how much I appreciate you. 
> 
> Thank you to Ris (@falsegoodnight) for reading over the story and for all your suggestions. Thank you to my friends for all being cheerleaders and encouraging me when I post snippets, I love each one of you so much! Finally, thank you to Katelyn (@lwtkissies) for helping me with the baseball cards! 
> 
> The title is from For Boston by Dropkick Murphys. 
> 
> My twitter is [@loubellies](https://twitter.com/loubellies)  
> My tumblr is [loubellies](https://loubellies.tumblr.com/)

Sweat drips down Louis’ face, his heart hammering in his chest as he tunes out the screaming crowd. He drags the toe of his cleat over the plate, dropping the bat to tap it twice before bringing his arms up. He squats lower in his stance, rolling his wrists and lifting his head to make eye contact with the pitcher. Harry Styles, one of the best pitchers in the league, age 24, New York Yankee. 

Louis’ lip snarls involuntarily, his blue eyes fierce as he stares the tall man down. Harry smirks cockily, shaking his head minutely at his catcher twice, nodding the third time. Louis shifts on his feet, hips swaying as he adjusts his grip. Harry looks away quickly before winding his arm up, lifting his leg, and throwing the ball at a shocking speed. Louis swings, getting a piece of the ball but fouling it. 

The catcher grabs the ball, throwing it back to Harry before dropping back into position. They start the process over again, Louis dragging his toe against the plate and rolling his wrists, shifting his stance. Harry pitches the ball again, a curveball comes flying towards the plate. Louis swings, nailing the ball right on the sweet spot of his bat, the vibrations making his fingers go numb as he drops the bat and takes off towards first base. He watches the ball soar through the air, she’s a goner. Home run. 

Louis does his victory lap, Fenway Park erupting in cheers as he shakes his arms over his head. It’s the bottom of the 9th and he’s just hit the winning run. 

He slows as he approaches home plate, taking the final step and ripping his helmet off, screaming loudly. His team slams into him, his feet no longer touching the ground as the men lift Louis and shake him, slapping his ass and cheering loudly. The crowd is screaming “Dirty Water” signaling a Red Sox victory!

\--

_Several years earlier_

Harry had grown up in the Deep South, Mississippi to be exact. His small-town had consisted of a barbeque place, a single stoplight, and endless fields and dirt roads. His small high school had had a semi-alright baseball team that he’d played on to pass the time since there was next to nothing to do. Mostly, Harry had just spent time with his friends in the green pastures tossing the ball and seeing how far they could hit it, always making the person who lost be the ball bitch. He’d been used to a slower pace of life, laidback and calm, never really having spent much time in a city. 

That had all changed when Harry had been scouted by an Ole Miss baseball coach and offered a full scholarship to play for them. 

He’d moved to Oxford after graduating high school and had spent most of college either buzzed or sweating in the hot sun on a pristine field. He’d made a name for himself among the SEC when he’d pitched no-hitter after no-hitter and claimed the championship for the University of Mississippi both his Sophomore and Junior years. 

Harry’s life had changed again after that third year. Every baseball player in the United States had foamed at the mouth for the chance to play on a Cape Cod Summer League, and Harry had been offered a spot on the Harwich Mariners. 

That’s where he met Louis Tomlinson for the first time. 

Louis was compact, curvy, attractive, and Harry’s heart had skipped a beat the moment he’d laid eyes on him. He was playing for the Brewster Whitecaps and nailed the ball Harry had just pitched to him, sending it flying over the fence before he could even blink. Harry watched his ass as he jogged around the plates, clapping his hands the whole way. His smile was practically blinding even underneath his helmet. Nothing could have prepared Harry for when Louis ripped the helmet off and revealed messy, brown hair and a better look at the boy’s face—his cute, button nose and piercing blue eyes. Harry was a goner. 

Louis did not feel the same way. He was not charmed by the arrogant, lanky man-boy who’d _clearly_ never had anyone tell him no before. The moment Harry walked up to him in the bar after the game, cocky smile blazing and his pelvis shifted forward, he knew this man was going to harass him. 

“Hi, baby.” His southern drawl made Louis’ skin itch. 

Louis rolled his eyes, grabbed his beer bottle and turned to go find his friends, leaving Harry alone at the bar staring at his retreating ass. 

Weeks later, after playing game after game, the championship arrived and the Brewster Whitecaps were up against none other than the Harwich Mariners. 

Baseball was more than just a game to Louis. He lived and breathed the sport, having been born and raised just a few blocks from Fenway Park. He was a prodigy of sorts, had played baseball from the age of 4. His little league team was practically his second family growing up—he spent more time with them than he spent with his own blood family. It was everything to Louis, his future, past, and present. He had no backup plan, baseball was the only option. 

Winning this game would secure Louis’ team the title and put him on every recruiter’s list for the big leagues. Louis could feel the tension tingling in his fingertips as he stepped up to the plate, his team was down and they had 2 innings left to bring it home. Louis glared at the cocky bastard on the mound, his jaw working as he chewed his gum obnoxiously. Arrogance seeped from his pores and it reminded Louis why he had spent all summer avoiding the bouncy curls, deep dimples, and southern twang. 

Harry spat on the ground, digging his toe into the dirt, his catcher giving him a sign for a curveball. He shook his head, getting a sign for a knuckleball. He’d already pitched to Louis a few times this season and learned that he wasn’t scared of speed and that he was great at following his instincts to nail the ball every time. A knuckleball might be the only way to squeak by him, so Harry nodded and readjusted to throw. A few deep breaths and Harry gripped the ball with his two fingernails tucked into the seam. One more breath and he was bringing his arm back and throwing the ball, sailing it past Louis. Strike one. 

Louis watched as Harry confirmed the second pitch, then rolled his shoulder once before setting up. The bat resting on his shoulder was raised, his eye focused on the ball as he waited for it. When Harry threw, it immediately registered as a curveball and Louis nailed it right in the middle of the bat. The sting zinged up Louis’ arms as he tossed the bat and sprinted for first base. It only made it to mid-field, the shortstop stopping the ball and throwing it to first base to try to get Louis out but it was too late, he had both feet on the base. One more run down, 3 more to go. 

Harry was starting to sweat when he realized that Louis was now on third base, having given up 3 runs, only leaving one run left to tie the game. They had two outs and Harry knew if he got one more out, that would end the 8th inning and he could hold them off during the 9th. He went through a few signs before settling on the pitch with his catcher, going through his ritual and lining up. This hitter wasn’t as confident and sure of himself as Louis was, which made him more likely to swing outside the strike zone, and also slightly scared of the ball. Harry wasn’t sure how he’d gotten this far, was slightly concerned that the league was getting too soft these days. 

Harry threw the ball with force, just slightly outside of the strike zone, but the hitter swung anyway. Strike one. Harry threw another ball: strike two. The final pitch. He was lined up for a curveball, smiling as his eyes caught Louis preparing to run for home. _Not today, cutie_. Harry took a deep breath and pitched the ball, his eyes following the hitter’s bat as it just barely grazed the ball but ultimately struck out. Louis ripped his helmet off as he ran past, Harry chuckling as a look to kill was shot his way. 

The Brewster Whitecaps only let in one run during the 9th inning, which gave them a 2 run lead and ultimately raised the pressure for Harry. He had to throw a perfect inning, no room for error. That tension mounted as player after player filled the bases, one getting a piece of a curveball, another nailing a ball outside of the strike zone into the outfield. The third hitter struck out, the fourth too, another getting a sweet hit into midfield, and then finally Louis was stepping up to the plate. Harry couldn’t give him any space, couldn’t let him get any ounce of a read on him, Louis was too good for an advantage like that. 

He waited as Harry circled through pitch after pitch, finally settling on one and setting himself up. Harry kicked at the dirt, spat, and dragged his fingers through his frizzy, curly hair before squishing his baseball cap back on. He swung his arm a few times and lined up, taking a deep breath. 

Louis breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as he watched the ball. His stomach ached where he wanted this so bad, where his whole life could come crashing down in this exact moment. 

When Harry threw the ball, the world moved in slow motion. The ball was spinning through the air, barreling towards his bat, but it felt as if time had stopped completely. When it came into contact, the vibrations were almost unbearable, but Louis didn't drop the bat right away. He watched, knowing, as the ball sailed high above heads and eventually, the fence. He only jolted out of his haze when the player that was on third base shoved him in the direction of first base as he stepped onto the home plate, shouting loudly. 

He’d just won the championship game of the Cape Cod Summer League. 

When he stepped back onto home plate he saw Harry crouched down on the pitcher’s mound, his catcher rubbing his back and squeezing his neck. When they shook hands with the opposing team Louis made sure to squeeze his hand extra hard, smiling cheekily even though Harry was grimacing at him. 

They all gathered around as the announcers started the awards ceremony, giving out Most Improved, Best Pitcher, Gold Glove, and the coveted Most Valuable Player. Louis wanted MVP so badly he could almost taste it. As they got ready to announce it, saving it for last, he could practically feel himself frothing at the mouth. The announcer read a generic speech, smiling at the crowd before reading off accomplishments, none of which were Louis’. His stomach turned and the taste in his mouth turned acid-bitter. 

“And this year’s Most Valuable Player is Harry Styles!”

Harry collected his award, smiling proudly at the crowd. His team hoisted him high and cheered his name, making him laugh loudly and pump his fists. Losing the game might be disappointing, but this meant the world to Harry. He could carry this back to college and rub it in his teammates’ faces and spend the rest of his life bragging about how he was once the Cape Cod Summer League MVP. That was _everything_. 

The Yankees called a week later with an offer he could not refuse. 

\--

Louis stepped off the train in Boston and waved at his mom, his phone starting to ring in his pocket. He fumbled with it as he walked across the platform, not recognizing the number as he hit answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Mr. Louis Tomlinson there?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Billy Crew, I’m a recruiter for the Red Sox. Is now a good time?”

Louis’ jaw dropped as he looked up at his mom. “Now’s a great time.”

\--

_6 months later_

Rookie training is Louis’ own personal hell, constant working out and conditioning exhausting him to the bone. He’s grouchy, his roommate is annoying so he hasn’t slept well, and now Harry Styles is using the exercise machine that _he_ needs. He waits for a few minutes but when Harry sits up and messes with his phone, Louis huffs and stomps over to him.

“It’s really inconvenient to others if you sit on the machines and play with your phone. _Some_ of us would like to use them.”

Harry looks up at him for a second before looking back down at his phone. “Yeah, one second.”

That sends Louis’ temper sky-high. “ _No_ , not one second. Move. Now.” 

Harry looks back up at him, confusion written all over his face. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s yours? This is so disrespectful to everyone else in the gym!”

Harry raises his hands, standing from the machine. “Okay, damn.”

When Louis is ready for the next machine he finds the same thing, Harry hogging a whole fucking machine while he sits on his phone. “Oh, my God. Are you going to actually use the machines or just sit on your phone? Why are you wasting your time here?”

Harry looks up at the shrill sound, rolling his eyes. “I use them. I just like a break between each set.”

“Then move! Go somewhere else for your break so someone else can use the machine!” 

Harry huffs as he stands, his back cracking loudly. “Oof. There, princess, take your throne.” Louis’ face goes red, Harry brushing past him with a smug smile. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

Louis turns around like he’s going to say something but he shuts his mouth firmly, turning to drop into the chair of the machine. _Harry Styles is not worth your time and anger._ Breathe. _Harry Styles is not worth your time and anger._ Breathe. _Harry Styles is not worth your time and anger._ Breathe.

Harry heads for the locker room, pushing the door open and passing through row after row of lockers. He pulls his open, tossing his phone and headphones in and grabbing out his body wash and towel. He rinses the sweat off quickly, Louis is entering the showers just as Harry steps out to towel off. He heads back to his locker for his clothes and as he walks past the rows his eye catches on the slightly ajar door of someone else’s locker. 

He means to just shut it, really he does, but when he realizes it’s Louis’ locker his intentions change. He cracks open the door a smidge more, looking around the room to make sure no one is around. There’s a pile of neatly folded clothes and a few other items, as well as the sweaty clothes he’d just taken off. Harry giggles to himself as he scoops both sets under his arm and shuts the door. He tosses them in another empty locker down the row, snickering to himself as he drops his towel and changes into his own clean clothes. He grabs his phone and sits on the bench, waiting for the inevitable. 

It’s only a few minutes later when he hears confused noises a few rows over. “What?” The frantic sounds grow louder, locker doors being opened and shut, baskets of towels being dug through. “Fucksake.” 

Harry looks up when Louis turns the corner, looking surprised to see someone at first—then angry. “Where are they?”

“What?”

“ _What_ did you do with my clothes?”

“I didn’t do anything with your clothes, princess.” 

Harry is pretty sure he can see steam coming out of Louis’ red ears. “Are you a child?!” 

Harry’s eyes widen. “You need to loosen up, what is your problem?”

“My _problem_ is that you already fucked up my entire gym routine and now you’ve stolen my clothes as some sort of schoolyard prank! Where are they?”

“Why do you work so hard? And how did _I_ fuck up your gym routine by sitting on two machines?”

“Some people can’t have everything handed to them on a silver platter, asshole! Some of us have to actually work hard! Where are my clothes?!” 

Harry rolls his eyes, standing to open the locker and grab the clothes. “Here, and just so you know, I do work hard.”

“Yeah, work hard at being a fucking prick,” Louis practically growls, turning on his heel and yanking his towel off as he turns the corner, giving Harry a _very_ good look at his ass. It jiggles with each step, round and firm looking. Harry’s never seen a better ass, and that’s saying something because he’s seen _a lot_ of ass in his years of playing baseball. He’d even go so far as to say Louis has the ** _best ass in the league_**. He feels his dick twitch, still staring at the edge of the lockers where Louis had disappeared. 

He can’t help but feel a magnetic pull, his head going silent and his body thrumming with need. He wants to bite, make Louis go quiet and pliant under his mouth. He edges closer and right when he’s about to turn the corner, Louis comes rushing around it and slams into his chest. Harry grabs his hips to steady them but the petite boy quickly jumps back out of his grip, looking up at him in anger. _God, he’s so pretty_. 

“Sorry,” Harry breathes, “was just—Would you wanna go out? For dinner?”

Louis rolls his eyes, bumping his shoulder as he stomps by and out of the locker room. 

\--

During the second week of training each new player conducts an interview that will be an introduction to the league. They ask the same questions in the same order but at the end, they always tailor a question for the specific player, usually with the intention of getting some juicy details. A lot of players get asked about their significant other or any relationships they’ve seen spark throughout the first few days. Apparently this reporter is digging for some drama, or at least, Louis thinks he is based on the tailored question he receives. 

“Do you think your new recruit friends will last? Anyone you think isn’t cut out for the job?”

Louis spots the pot-stirring from a mile away but that doesn’t stop him from shading the lovely Harry Styles—not because he hates him but because he really believes he won’t last. 

“Personally yes, I won’t name names, but there is one person I think is too cocky and it will get him in trouble. He doesn’t work as hard as the rest of us and I think he’s going to be in trouble come time to actually step onto the field.”

“Why won’t you name names?”

“He doesn’t need me to name names, and when the season starts you’ll know exactly who I mean.” 

“Could you be talking about Yankee Harry Styles?”

Louis shrugs. “That’s up to you to decide.”

The reporter pokes his lip out in a pout. “You don’t want to give us any more than that?”

“I don’t need to. Are we finished here?” 

Louis stands, brushing his slacks and heading for the door. When the interviews come out a week later, Louis ignores the glares being sent his way by Mr. NYY Pinstripes himself. Only when Harry stalks over to his locker after a long day in the sun does he pay him any attention. “You stink.”

“You’re really going to go on national television and tell the world that _I_ don’t work hard and _I’m_ too cocky and _I_ won’t last in this career?”

“Am I wrong?” 

“Yes!” Harry practically screams, his nostrils flaring. It’s really quite ugly, his face has gone red and his eyes are wide. Not to mention the horrific wrinkles he’s going to have when he’s old with those angry eyebrows. Louis cannot figure out why he’s still attracted to him, has he fallen and hit his head? Is he okay? 

Louis rolls his eyes and shuts his locker, firmly this time, before turning back to Harry and raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Then why do you care what I have to say?” 

He shoulders past the taller man without hearing his answer and exits the locker room without another word. 

\--

Harry isn’t sure how he got here. He had planned for an early night in with some nice meditation and ESPN catch up, that is until some of his new teammates had come pounding at his door demanding he come out with them tonight. Now he’s sat in a booth, two beers down and nursing a third and honestly, he’s having a great time. His teammates are funny, the beer is surprisingly good, and there’s a good chance he could get laid tonight. 

One of his teammates, Tyler, has been pointing out girls all night for Harry but none of them have caught his eye. He’s currently going on and on about a brunette at the bar when another girl catches his eye. “Hey, Harry. What about her? Stood over by Tomlinson, do you see her?” Harry’s head snaps up at the mention of Louis, eyes following to where Tyler is pointing. “She’s cute, man.” 

The resemblance is striking, and Harry knows immediately that she must be his sister. He can already picture the look on Louis’ face when he sees Harry flirting with her. It’s a bad idea, a very bad idea, and Harry is sliding out of the booth, headed straight for her. 

When he slides up next to her she immediately looks up, surprise on her face. 

“Hi, I’m—”

“Harry Styles, I know who you are. Louis never shuts up about you.”

“Good things?” Harry smirks, dimple carving out his cheek.

“I wouldn’t say good, no.” She smirks. “Are you over here to wind him up?”

“Maybe.” Harry shrugs, leaning his hand on the table she’s sat at. “It’s easy to do.”

“Sure is.” She takes a sip of her drink, looking over at Louis. “I’ll play along. Might be entertaining.” She leans forward in her chair until Harry is hovering over her, his smirk turning to a boyish smile. She rolls her eyes, having apparently learned from the best. “Stop smiling like that, he’ll have you figured out in about two seconds. Pull that smirk back out.”

Harry giggles softly before hardening his face into a smirk. “Do you like winding your brother up then?”

“Oh, of course,” she laughs, “he’s always pranking us and driving me crazy, I have to return the favor. This’ll really piss him off, too.”

Right on cue, almost as if Louis’ ears were burning—“What the _fuck_ are you doing?!”

Harry looks up, eyebrows raised. “Speaking to a gorgeous lady, what are you doing?”

“That’s my sister!” Louis screams, shoving him back away from Lottie. “You do _not_ talk to her!”

Harry’s taken aback by his temper, feeling his own spark and blaze through his core. “I think she was enjoying it, and I think she’s plenty old enough to make her own decisions.”

He had been excited to revel in winding Louis up, but now that he’s here with him, fire burning in those gorgeous blue eyes, he’s really just gotten himself in trouble. He can’t decide if he’s angry or turned on, a mental tug of war occurring in his head over whether he should kiss Louis or scream. 

Louis makes the decision for him. “Fuck off. She can make her own decisions, but I know you’re just trying to _fuck_ with me!” Louis turns his back to Harry then, ending the conversation effectively. 

Harry stomps back to his booth and chugs the rest of his beer. “I need another. Someone get me another.”

Niall, the new catcher on the team, scrambles out of the booth to grab him a new beer. He slides it across the table when he gets back, staring with wide eyes as Lottie and Harry flirt from across the bar. 

“Aren’t you playing with fire, Styles?”

“I am, because Louis Tomlinson does not get to tell me what to do.” 

When Louis catches his eye he drops his hand to his groin and smirks, successfully setting Louis off again. He grabs their things from their booth and Lottie rolls her eyes. They’re leaving—which means Harry's fun is over—but he’s not done. 

He stands quickly, racing over to cut Louis off before the door of the bar. “Louis.”

“Fuck _off_!”

“One date.”

Louis makes a frustrated noise. “I can’t fucking stand you, why would I ever willingly torture myself for hours by going to dinner with you?”

Harry smirks cheekily. “Because I don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do, princess.”

Louis’ hardened expression slips a little, some fear filling the gaps but quickly slipping away when Louis rolls his eyes and turns back to Lottie. “C’mon.”

\--

Harry hits the ball with force, bat vibrating in his hand. He watches as the ball soars but it only makes it to the edge of the outfield where shortstop Louis Tomlinson picks it up and throws it to first, out. Harry rips his helmet off, dragging his fingers through the longer curls tangled around his ears. “Fuck!” 

Louis bites his lip, winking at him from across the field and causing his frustration to mount. 

Harry has to deal with sitting on the bench most of the day today, his coach using the scrimmage to work on weaknesses. Harry’s weakness has always been batting. He’s most confident on the mound, but when the roles are flipped, he can never get out of his head. He waits through another rotation of the batting lineup before he’s up again. Only a single out and one run into the 4th inning, bases are loaded. He does his best to push everything out of his head, all his insecurities and worries. He can hit the ball, make it soar over little Louis’ head. When the pitcher throws, Harry swings. Strike!

Harry drops his head back, gripping the cage of his helmet to adjust it before stepping into position again. He rolls his wrists, bat held high, eyes locked on the ball. He watches it leave the pitcher’s hand and barrel towards him at a ridiculous speed. Harry swings, making contact with the ball. He drops the bat and runs, stepping onto first base and looking over his shoulder. His coach yells for him to keep going to second, his long legs taking step after step. He slows as he steps onto second base, leaning down to place his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “Whew, fucking hell.” 

He hears a snort from beside him, his eyes dragging over to Louis standing just feet away. “Look what the cat dragged in, a hillbilly.” 

His teammates chuckle but Harry just rolls his eyes, glancing back to his own teammate who’s currently at bat. 

“Why don’t you start singing us a little diddy, cowboy?” Louis drawls in an exaggerated country accent. “Or can we get a yeehaw?” 

Harry can feel his anger bubbling in the hot sun, heart starting to pound hard in his chest. “Fuck off.” 

“Now that’s not very gentlemanly of you, Har—” 

The player at bat hits the ball and Harry looks up, gasping and taking off for third base. Louis’ quicker though. He catches the ball in the air—an automatic out—turns on his heel and throws the ball to third where his teammate touches the base before Harry can even blink. Harry yanks the helmet off, chucking it at the ground. “Oh my _fucking_ God!” 

Louis’ smirking at him. “Bless your heart. Maybe next time, ace.” His teammates laugh, slapping Louis’ ass and running to the dugout to get ready to bat. Harry clenches his jaw, trying to take a deep breath before he gets to his own dugout where he can see his coach staring at him, clearly unamused. 

\--

Louis’ team wins the scrimmage thanks to his plays on the field and the homerun he’d hit in the 7th inning. By the middle of the ninth inning, Harry’s team is still behind by three runs, which results in an automatic home victory. The boys cheer, clapping each other on the shoulder and exiting the dugout to shake hands. Harry squeezes Louis’ extra tight, his calloused and rough hands making Louis’ stomach bubble. 

The team has plans to go out and Louis is all for it. He loves going out with his team, taking shots and getting lost in the darkness of the club. He showers quickly in the locker room, everyone making plans to meet up around 10 to head to the club. Liam, pitcher, invites him over to pregame. He quickly changes and meets back up with the team. Most of the players have filled Liam’s room, everyone laughing and drinking. 

Liam passes him a drink, pinching his cheek. “Good game, think you’re going to do amazing during the regular season.” 

Louis bites his lip, nodding quickly, giddy at the approval. 

When they arrive at the club it’s starting to fill up, a line forming outside. The team walks up, immediately getting let in and escorted to a booth in the back. Louis slips over to the bar, orders a drink and within seconds his vodka Red Bull is slid across the bar to him. He stays by the bar at first and drags his eyes over the crowd. There’s a large crowd dancing, everyone starting to break a sweat as it gets later and later. Louis catches the eye of a tall, gorgeous man and he smirks flirtily, chugging the rest of his drink before turning back to the bar to order another that he’s already finished by the time the man slides up to him at the bar. “Can I get you another?”

Louis nods. “Please. I’m Louis.”

“Louis, pretty name. I’m Ben.” 

“Nice to meet you.” 

The bartender slides two drinks across the bar and the man pays.

“Dance?”

“Love to.”

The man guides Louis to the crowd with a hand on his lower back, dragging him past a few couples before turning him with his large hands on his hips. They grind to the beat of the music, Louis’ arm reaching up to cup the man’s neck while he tips his drink back. 

The dance isn’t anything spectacular, the man’s slightly off rhythm hips and his mouth relentlessly sucking on Louis’ ear kind of ruining the mood. Luckily, Louis’ drunk enough to let it slide, knowing that the man is obviously very into him. 

Into the fourth song another man cuts in, his grip much more possessive and hips rolling just right against his ass. Louis moans, dropping his head back onto his shoulder. The man’s hands drag down Louis' thighs, squeezing the thick muscle before trailing up over the crease of his leg and up under his shirt. “So fucking gorgeous.”

Louis would recognize that southern drawl anywhere. “Harry.” 

“Hi, baby.” 

Louis moans, too drunk to be put off by him. To be completely honest, Harry would be exactly the kind of man he loves if it weren’t for his piss poor attitude and massive ego. He loves the way his massive hands feel so intoxicating against his skin, his big green eyes and full pink mouth. He’d love to sit on his face, sure his mouth must feel as good as it looks. He’d caught himself staring at Harry’s bulge too many times to count today, those pinstripe pants unfairly tight and revealing. His mouth waters at the thought of getting on his knees for him. 

Harry pinches Louis’ nipples under his shirt, groaning when he pushes his ass harder against Harry’s groin. “Fuck, baby. Drive me wild.”

Louis chokes out a moan, digging his nails into Harry’s forearm. He reaches his other hand behind himself to stroke at Harry through his tight, tight jeans. 

Harry chuckles darkly, grabbing both of Louis’ hands in one of his own and pinning them to Louis’ front, right over his own cock. With each grind his fists drag up his cock, his back arches. 

“Gorgeous. Bet you’d look even better naked, underneath me,” Harry breathes, nipping at the hinge of his jaw. “Want me to pin you down, take you so hard you fucking cry?” 

Louis’ going to cum in his pants from a combination of Harry’s filthy words and his knuckles dragging roughly over his cock. He spins in a panic, realizing that maybe all this time Harry has been flirting and trying to take him out because he actually likes him. He blurts out, “Take me home, Harry.”

Harry looks taken aback, his brows furrowing as he takes in Louis’ appearance. “Fuck, you’re so drunk.” 

“Not that drunk, c’mon.” Louis tugs on Harry’s wrist. “ _C’mon_.” 

Harry’s eyes search his. “Baby, I can’t. Not with you this drunk.” 

“I’m not even drunk!” Louis huffs, but Harry shakes his head. 

“You’re slurring. I’m not going to do that. I can’t fucking do this with you like this.”

It dawns on Louis that he’s getting rejected, and then it dawns on Louis that this might’ve just been some sick joke in the first place. Louis yanks his hands away like Harry’s on fire, stumbling back and heading back to the booth where Liam and the rest of the team are laughing obnoxiously. 

He doesn’t see Harry for the rest of the night, not when he keeps glancing at the dance floor, not when he crosses the line from drunk to incoherent, not when Liam carries him home fireman's carry style. 

The embarrassment that overwhelms him the next morning is almost worse than his hangover. Almost. 

He drags himself off the couch, dragging his feet over to where Liam is currently pouring two cups of coffee. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Like shit.” 

Liam laughs. “Sorry, man. Might wanna get a shower and down some water before our scrimmage.” 

Louis nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember last night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering. You and Styles looked awfully cozy.” 

Louis chokes on his coffee, staring at Liam with wide eyes. “I—”

“It’s okay if you have a thing, just don’t let it get in the way.”

“ _No_! We definitely, definitely don’t. Last night was a drunken mistake.” Louis scrambles, setting the cup down.

“Okay,” Liam laughs, “calm down, it’s not a big deal.” 

“I _cannot_ stand him. There’s nothing there. I swear.” 

Liam takes a sip, looking at him over his mug. “You don’t have to convince me, Louis.” 

Louis huffs, suddenly feeling extremely ill. Last night was a mistake for _so_ many reasons.

When he finally gets to the locker rooms, stripping off to change into his uniform, he spots Harry entering and quickly dresses. He tugs his shirt over his head, stumbling back when he resurfaces to Harry standing right in front of him. “Jesus!”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Harry cringes, leaning against the lockers.

“What do you want?” Louis snaps, tucking his shirt in and buttoning his pants. 

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “Was just going to check on you?”

Louis gives him a look. “Why would you do that?”

Harry crosses his arms, his guard going up again. “Really?”

“Are you just here to annoy me or?” Louis grabs his sock and sits on the bench to pull them on. 

“Wow,” Harry laughs bitterly, “last night you were practically riding my clothed cock and now you’re acting like I’m a fucking pest?”

Louis stands. “Lower your voice.”

“Are you embarrassed then? You weren’t last night in the club. Everyone saw how much you wanted me.” 

Louis wants to cry, embarrassment making his throat tighten, his face going hot. “Fucking dick.” He slams his locker door, grabbing his cleats. “I put myself out there last night and you rejected me, after everything! Don’t come in here acting like _I’m_ the problem here, Harry! Now please, for the _love_ of god, leave me alone!” 

\--

Harry catches up with Louis again after practice, he’s pulling on a t-shirt, his hair wet and dripping after his shower. Harry clears his throat to announce his presence and smiles widely when Louis looks up. Louis looks less than thrilled to see him, his expression blank. He turns back to his locker and digs out a few things and shoves them into his bag. 

“Can I talk to you?” Harry slides up next to the locker, causing Louis to take a step back. He’s still wounded from last night and he’s not sure he feels like listening to this asshole. “I know you’re upset over last night but I didn’t reject you because I didn’t want you, I want to take you out—I have for a while—just not like that.” Harry sighs, the tension in his shoulders loosening now that he’s gotten that out on the table. 

Except then Louis rounds on him, clearly angry. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Louis huffs, anger boiling over because he’s had enough of _this_. “You do realize it’s not fucking funny to me right? Are you 12? Are you in school still? Think you can play me like how you tried to play my sister?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “Louis, this isn’t a game for me.”

“Oh, please! All you do is play games! Life is a joke to you, baseball is just a game, whose head you fuck with this week is just a game, you’ve never taken anything seriously in your _life_!” Louis snatches his bag up and runs from the locker room, hot tears prickling in his eyes. 

Harry stands there dumbfounded until the words sink in, his face heating as he thinks about how unfair Louis’ being. He doesn’t know his life or what he’s been through, this isn’t a game to him. Harry spins to leave the room but Niall catches his attention.

“Damn, Tomlinson is not a Styles fan, I guess.”

“He doesn’t even know me, he doesn’t know I take things seriously.”

“Like what?” Niall raises an eyebrow. “I mean, not to overstep but you do have it kind of easy.”

“I still have to work hard,” Harry huffs, annoyed that Niall apparently agrees with Louis.

“Yeah, but you’ve not had to work nearly as hard as a lot of us have. Louis’ been doing baseball since he could walk, he lives and breathes it. This is just some fun for you.” 

Harry stares at Niall for a moment, his words sinking in. “Do you really think I’ve had it easy?”

“I know you have.” 

Harry sighs, leaning his forehead against the locker. “Okay, yeah. Maybe I have.”

Niall nods his head, changing out of his uniform. “My suggestion for you, whether you want my advice or not, is that you start showing Tomlinson that you do work hard and that this isn’t a game to you. Show him you take him seriously.”

Harry looks up, smiling at Niall. “Thanks, I’m gonna try.”

Niall nods, grabbing his bag and heading to the showers. “Good luck, Styles. You’ll need it more for Tomlinson than you do for a game.” 

\--

The regular season starts after the 5th week, each rookie getting placed on the roster and ready for their time to shine. Each week brings new teams, new cities, new memories. The high is one that you struggle to come down from, winning a game and taking that step closer to getting a chance at the World Series. There’s hardly any time to relax, constantly on the go and trying to catch up on sleep during downtime. Louis tries but he can never calm down, always bouncing off the walls and ready for the next game.

It starts out seemingly innocent. Some flowers left at the concierge for him, a bottle of champagne sent to his room after a big win. He doesn’t think much of it, too high off adrenaline to do anything besides pop the cork and take a swig from the bottle. 

It all seems innocent, until Louis receives another bouquet of beautiful sunflowers, all centered around a handwritten note. 

_L,_

_It’s not a game. Let me show you. Come to dinner with me. Please._

_—H_

Suddenly, the realization hits him that Harry is still messing with him. He rips up the notecard, tossing it in the trash along with the flowers. “Fucking prick.”

Louis refuses to accept gifts after that, no matter what it is or who it’s from. He tells the hotel concierge to trash anything that comes for him and refuses to open his front door for any delivery people. 

When Louis sees Harry again he immediately stalks up to him, fire blazing in his eyes. “What are you playing at?”

Harry turns, a lazy smile on his big face. “Nothing, baby. Why?”

“ _Stop_ sending me flowers and champagne and whatever _else_ you’ve sent me. You’re on my last fucking nerve, Styles.” Louis huffs, growing more and more annoyed by Harry’s smug face. 

“I’m just courting you.”

“I’m not some giggly southern belle you can woo.” Louis rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. 

“I beg to differ, baby.” Harry drawls, brushing Louis’ fringe out of his eyes gently. 

Louis slaps his hand away, turning on his heel and walking quickly away. 

Liam is waiting for him near the door, his eyebrows raised. “You good?”

“Yeah, just fucking hate that guy.”

“Styles? He seems alright.”

Louis glares at him, effectively shutting him up. 

\--

The first game against the Yankees is a big one, the stress of it is making Louis’ back ache and his hands shake. He’s walking towards the stadium, standing tall and ominous in the Bronx, when he sees him running towards him like a child. 

“Harry.”

“Hi, Lou. How’re you today?”

Louis squints at Harry suspiciously. “Fine, what are you doing?”

“Can I carry your bag?”

“No, you can’t.” Louis pulls his bag closer to his body, wrapping both arms around it to protect it from whatever Harry is plotting. 

Harry smiles calmly. “Okay. Are you excited for the game?”

“Y-yes. What are you doing?”

Harry shrugs, his smile so wide his big bunny teeth are on display. He looks really good if Louis’ honest. His jaw looks strong and cut with his long hair pulled up into a bun. His eyes are intense but so warm somehow, smile lines creasing the skin around them. Harry Styles is a very attractive man, it can’t be denied. It really isn’t fair. 

As they approach the door, Harry runs ahead to hold it open. Louis checks the door, making sure no saran wrap or water balloons are waiting for him and steps through the frame quickly, rushing ahead just in case. Harry bites his lip to try to muffle his laugh. “You’re so cute.”

Louis hums. “Yeah, yeah.”

Harry wishes him luck, heading in the opposite direction for his own locker room. 

\--

At the top of the ninth inning Louis manages to nail a home run, scoring three runs and gaining a substantial lead against the Yankees. Harry sits in the dugout, head in his hands as his teammates strike out one after the other. It’s over, and it’s his fault. In the locker room afterwards, the mood is glum but someone mentions going to a bar down the road, just a little something to drown their misery. 

The bar is packed when they walk in, the patrons being mostly fans except for a booth towards the back spilling with half the Boston Red Sox team, Louis in the middle of them all. He’s screaming, downing shots, and laughing loudly. Harry can’t take his eyes off him. 

He’s at the bar ordering himself a whiskey when Louis stumbles up beside him. Harry smiles at him, obviously tipsy and having an amazing time riding the high of a win. “Hi, baby. Want a drink?” 

Louis pouts his lip out. “You know I don’t like you, right?”

Harry gives him a once over. “Yeah, I know.”

Louis nods. “Okay, vodka Red Bull.”

Harry cringes while ordering it, thinking of Louis’ poor heart. The bartender gets their drinks and Louis sighs, leaning against the bar. “So, Styles. How’re you feeling after that loss tonight?”

Harry scoffs, chuckling and shaking his head. “Are you always a brat?”

Louis shrugs. “Doesn’t seem to turn you off.”

“No, it definitely does not.” 

The bartender slides their drinks across the bar and Harry pays and takes a sip, turning to Louis and passing him his drink. “There you go.”

Louis takes a sip. “What are you up to?”

Harry scrunches his face in confusion. “What?”

“You’ve been really nice to me, too nice. Is this some sort of prank or a way to mess with my head?” Louis stirs his drink, a serious expression replacing the playful twinkle in his eye.

“I’m just trying to be your friend, Louis.” Harry sighs, pursing his lips as he glances around the bar. His eyes meet breathtaking blue. “Maybe more if you’d let me.”

Louis shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

Harry takes another swig of whiskey, his eyes searching Louis’ to try to make him understand. “I just like you.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Who doesn’t, I’m perfect.”

“Mm.” Harry raises his glass and clinks it against Louis’. “Cheers to that, baby.”

Louis laughs, a full-bodied, loud laugh. It makes Harry stop, his smile widening unknowingly as he watches. “God, you’re cute.”

Louis bites his lip, trying to keep himself from giggling. “Oh, shut up. You’ve had too much whiskey.”

“It’s my first glass.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else, just tilts his head to smile into his glass, trying and failing to hide the flush that’s dancing across his cheekbones. _Gorgeous_. 

Harry excuses himself to the bathroom, the ridiculous amount of water he drank earlier during the game catching up to him. His mind wanders, thoughts of asking Louis out again and the possibility of him saying yes. 

All the times he’s asked before, Louis had been mad. So maybe this time, tipsy and incredibly proud of his win, maybe he’ll say yes. 

He thinks about what it would be like to get his hands on Louis’ body again, be able to treat him the way he wants. He’s been desperate to take Louis out since he met him months ago. He makes up his mind to ask him out again, to have a serious conversation about his very real feelings. 

He had asked Louis to watch his drink but when he gets back, his drink and Louis are both missing. He asks the few people around the bar if they’ve seen where he went but none of them know, so Harry chances asking his teammates. He spots Liam when he gets closer to the booth and heads straight for him. “Hey. Where’d Louis go?”

“Why?”

“He has my drink,” Harry huffs. “I asked him to hold it while I went to the bathroom.”

Liam stares at him suspiciously. “I think I saw him go outside, probably for a smoke.”

Harry heads for the side door, pushing it open and glancing around the alley. He doesn’t spot him at first, hidden behind a larger figure, but when he does a mixture of emotions take over. His drink is on the ground, a cigarette floating in it, and Louis’ pressed against the brick wall, whining and grinding down on the thigh of a man. He sees the slick of the man’s tongue sliding into Louis’ mouth, kissing deeply to try to cover up their noises. 

Harry lets the door close, sliding out into the alley and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He stands there, staring at the man’s back as he grinds into Louis, both of their moans starting to grow louder. Harry feels the ugly pit of jealousy form in his lower belly, the urge to stomp over and rip the large man _away_ from Louis taking hold. He restrains himself, the other half of his heart weeping at the fact that Louis apparently just does this. Harry’s nothing special, and that’s fine. It’s really fine. Louis can do what he wants. 

He starts to doubt himself, though. He wonders if it’s because he’s been a dick, if it’s something he’s done that makes Louis reject him every single time he asks. 

Louis’ eyes open as the man starts to kiss down his neck, sucking a hickey into his collarbones. Harry makes eye contact, raising his eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. Louis pushes the man back, huffing at Harry, “Do you mind?” 

Harry shrugs. “No, I don’t. Carry on.” 

Louis shakes his head in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding? You’re intruding.”

Harry hums, squinting at Louis’ new _friend_. “Am I?”

The man looks between them. “Um, are you Harry Styles?”

“I am.”

“Holy shit, Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles all in one night. You’re both legends.”

Harry nods. “Nice. A fan, too?” He looks at Louis smugly. 

Louis stomps over to him, shoving his chest. “Fucking dickhead! You’re being a cockblock. Go inside and torture someone else.”

“I would, but you owe me a drink, baby. Mine has your cigarette floating in it.”

Louis turns back to look where Harry is pointing, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he turns back. “Fucking go back inside and I’ll buy you a new drink.” 

“And if I don’t?” Harry laughs, frustration building. He’s holding back so much, desperate to just grab Louis and lick into his mouth, to override the taste of that nobody, to make sure all Louis can taste is _him_. He wants to be the only thing on his mind, the only bruises on his skin. 

The man scratches his balls and laughs awkwardly. “I think I’m going to go back in, it was nice to meet you both. Louis, come find me if you want to finish what we started.” 

Louis watches in horror as the man leaves, turning to Harry with fury in his eyes. “Fuck you! That was so uncool, Harry! I was trying to suck that man’s dick!”

“Looked like you were trying to ride his dick to me.”

“And if I was it wouldn’t be your business, asshole!” Louis shoves his chest, making a frustrated noise that Harry really wants to hear again in different circumstances. He grabs Louis’ hip, squeezing tightly and pulling him closer. Louis leans into it, lips hovering over Harry’s. They simply breathe each other’s air for a few moments before Louis leans back, cutting the tension and leaving Harry gasping for air. He steps back, purses his lips and turns back to the door, wrenching it open and disappearing inside the bar. When Harry regains his bearings he heads inside to find Louis, except he’s long gone now. 

\--

Louis stumbles home, still tipsy but mostly annoyed with how his night has unfolded. He’d wanted to ride the high of his win, enjoy his time with his teammates, maybe get laid. He had _not_ wanted to deal with Harry Styles and his mind games tonight. It only gets worse when he gets back to his hotel and flips on the TV.

Harry is on ESPN talking to a reporter about their loss tonight, his disappointment evident but hope still shining in his eyes. Louis angrily switches the channel and watches an infomercial for a cat brush, but after a few minutes he flips it back. He sits and watches Harry speak, the way his mouth moves and how he tangles his fingers in his long, curly hair. Memories of his hard cock pressed into his lower back flood his mind, Harry’s fingers digging into his hips as he ground their hips together. Louis’ cock hardens for the second time tonight, fucking aching in his skinny jeans. 

He sits back on the bed and peels his jeans and t-shirt off, crawling back to the pillows and reaching into his boxers to pull his cock out. He jerks himself a few times and reaches for the remote to quickly pause the screen on an extra hot still of Harry pitching tonight. His arm muscles are flexed, hair sweaty and falling out of its bun, the ball having just left his hand. 

Louis squeezes the head of his cock, moaning at the feeling. He shoves his boxers down his legs, rolling over to grab the lube out of his bag. He gets comfy against the pillows, squeezing the lube onto his fingers and reaching back to rub his hole. He whimpers needily, his first finger pushing deep inside. He pumps it slowly, clenching and moaning at the feeling. “Fuck.”

He slides a second finger inside, stretching himself with slow scissoring movements, biting at his knuckle when he just barely brushes his prostate. He desperately wishes he had a toy or a man here to scratch the itch, his fingers too short to reach where he wants to press and rub until he’s screaming. 

He pumps his fingers quickly, working himself up to a third and pushing in. “Oh, god.”

Louis moans loudly, eyes dragging over the frozen image of Harry, picturing what it would be like to be on his knees. Does he like to fuck hard and fast or does he like it slow and deep? Does he pull hair when he gets sucked off? His mind runs wild, heart pounding hard in his chest as he reaches for his prostate in desperation. He thinks about Harry taking him bent over in the dugout, his hands dirty and pressed against the bench, his uniform pants around his ankles. Harry fucking his throat in the showers in the locker room, their eyes locked as he screams Louis’ name. 

He wants him, he’s practically begging Harry to stop playing games so he can get everything he wants. Louis throws his head back, his back arching just so and giving him the angle to hit his prostate dead on. Louis screams, lost in his ecstasy as he feels his orgasm build. He jerks himself quickly, his cock making a slick clicking noise from how much precum he’s leaked. He squeezes his eyes shut just as his vision whites out, cum spilling over his knuckles and his hole clenching tightly around his fingers. “Oh, fuck!” Louis gasps, his thighs shaking and fingers tingling from the feeling. 

Louis rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling as the shame starts to sink in. He turns the TV off and lays in silence, his cum drying on his belly. When he finally gets up, shoving away all of the mental images he’d conjured up in his lustful haze, he immediately goes to shower, turning the knob as far as it’ll go and jumping in. He prays the hot water will cleanse him of his Harry Styles sins. 

\--

The Miami Marlins come to Boston a few nights later, while Louis is still riding the high from the wins they’ve managed to gather in the last couple weeks. Tonight is no different, Liam throws a no-hitter and Louis scores a homerun at the end of the 7th inning to secure their victory. When the Marlins strike out for a third time in the ninth inning, Louis runs to Liam and jumps on his back. 

Liam laughs loudly, spinning Louis and beaming at their teammates as they clap them both on the back and cheer them on. They shake hands with the Marlins, Louis not missing the way #74 winks at him and checks out his ass as he heads to the dugout. He tries to ignore how he wishes it was another player, also a #74 but this one is in pinstripes. 

When he grabs his bag, the strap breaks and the contents fall out onto the dirt. Louis sighs, bending to start picking his stuff up when he notices a lone sunflower in the pile. He scrunches his face in confusion, picking it up and reading the slip of paper attached to it. 

_L,_

_Show them how you shine._

_—H_

The smile is involuntary, or at least that’s what Louis tells himself. He can’t help the warm feeling in his chest and the fluttering in his stomach. Harry Styles is good, as much as Louis hates to admit it. He wonders if it’s possible Harry isn’t playing a game, maybe this is the real deal to him and he’s trying this hard not to wind Louis up, but to reel him in. Louis tries to collect himself, gathering up the contents of his bag and rushing down to the locker room to change before interviews start. 

\--

The following night brings the Yankees to Fenway Park and Louis can’t wait to kick Harry’s ass in his hometown. The first three innings go well, Louis hitting a double in the fourth inning and catching a few balls on the Yankees during their batting rotation. The fifth inning, however, brings disaster. 

Louis strikes out, Harry looking smug when Louis swings and misses. The umpire screams behind him, “Strike three! You’re out!” 

His face pales, blood draining and hands sweating as he walks numbly back to the dugout. He can’t get Harry’s smug look out of his head, haunting him out onto the field for the top of the sixth inning. His glove feels foreign, fingers tingling and making it very hard to focus. He misses a fucking grounder from the second hitter, the ball rolling _literally_ between his legs. He can hear Harry’s loud laugh, his embarrassment starting to melt into pure anger. 

By the eighth inning, Louis is seeing red. They’re down by 4 and even if Louis hits this ball over the Green Monster, it’ll only score two runs with only first base occupied. Harry pitches, Louis barely even realizing it’s left his hand before it’s in Niall’s glove behind him. Strike three. 

Louis rips his helmet off and stomps back to the dugout thinking about all the things he’d like to say to Mr. Golden Boy himself. He tosses his helmet when he enters the dugout, plopping onto the bench and tuning out his coach’s bullshit. 

The embarrassment of losing to his least favorite person in the league on his home turf is unbearable; his throat feels like it’s going to close up at any given moment. Bottom of the ninth inning, their final chance to bring home the victory, and Louis royally fucks it. Not only does he swing at the ball so far out of the strike zone it could’ve been a fucking grounder, but he also manages to get fucked over by Harry’s ridiculous curveball. 

He drops his face into his hands and lets hot tears pour from his eyes. The humiliation nestles itself into his gut, most of Fenway Park empty already due to the disappointment. He manages to suck it up by the time he exits to shake hands, Harry reaching his out with a sad smile. Louis doesn’t accept it, just raises an eyebrow before moving on to the next player. 

Coach is mad. No, he’s furious. His face has gone purple from how angry he is with the team, pacing back and forth in the locker room as he chews them out for the horrific performance they’d given. He demands they all go home, rest, and get ready for a fucking nightmare of a practice the following day. Louis showers quickly and changes, opting out of ESPN interviews tonight and heading straight for the player’s parking lot. 

“Hey.” 

Louis jumps out of his skin when he hears the dark voice, looking up from his cellphone to see Harry leaning against his car. He scoffs, popping the trunk to throw his bag in and slamming it shut. “Please, fuck off.” 

“No.” Louis looks up in shock, opening his mouth to say something but Harry cuts him off, “I’m not going. You’re obviously cross with me and I want to talk about it. It’s just a fucking game, Louis.” 

Louis stares at him in shock. “Just a game? It’s just a fucking game to you? This! This is why I can’t stand you! This is why I’m cross with you! You’ve never worked for _anything_! This means _nothing_ to you!” 

Harry shakes his head, lips pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I don’t _need_ to know you! I don’t even want to! You’ve never worked a day in your life and it shows. Now please move, I want to go home.” 

Harry doesn’t move, just stares at him for a few long seconds, “Why are you so bothered by what I’m doing?” 

“Because you didn’t work for this and you don’t take it seriously! This is my whole life, this is everything! I should’ve won tonight. Meanwhile, you skip through life like it’s just one big party and you never put in any effort!”

Harry scoffs, “I work hard, Louis. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have kicked your ass tonight.”

“Oh, my god,” Louis huffs, looking up at the sky like maybe some sort of help will fall from the stars. 

“Why are you even here? Why do you even play if you don’t enjoy it?” Harry questions, genuinely wondering why Louis is torturing himself like this. 

Louis glares at him. “I do enjoy it. I love it. I live and breathe this sport, Harry. It’s all I’ve ever known.” 

“So why do you ruin it for yourself by putting so much pressure on yourself?” Harry spreads his arms wide. “You’re _so_ talented Louis! But you let yourself down and you crack; because you push yourself too hard.”

“I have to, Harry. I have to put pressure on myself and push because I want to win.”

“Why don’t you try just playing. Just enjoy the game. You’d be unstoppable if you just played because you love it.” 

Louis looks down at his feet, flashbacks of his dad telling him to stop goofing off and to take things seriously shuffling through his mind. He’s never had anyone push him to just let go, to enjoy the game and have fun. He’s only ever been told to work harder, be serious, push more even if you’re pushing as hard as you can. 

He’s lost in his own thoughts when Harry speaks up again, “Where did you grow up?” 

Louis looks up, confused by the question. “Um, here. Boston.”

“Wanna go hit some balls on your old field?” Harry drawls cheekily, his southern accent thick. He raises his bag, showing off a bat. “I snagged some and a bat. I’ll even let you hit my game ball.” 

Louis purses his lips, trying to tamp down on a smile. He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulder. “Get in, Styles.” 

They head north, crossing the Charles River and taking the expressway to Malden. The lights of the city reflect off the water and shadows dance across the interior of the car, Louis looking breathtaking as he drives. 

“Does your family still live in the home you grew up in?”

Louis glances at Harry, flipping on his blinker. “They don’t. Moved further out of the city once I got into the league.” 

“Why?”

Louis sighs, “Just makes more sense I guess.” 

Harry doesn’t ask any more questions, just listens to the quiet hum of Nirvana and takes in the streets that Louis grew up on. They turn into a quiet park, the field dark except for the glow of street lights. Harry grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and following Louis. 

The field is well-kept, neatly manicured grass and a perfectly raked infield, something Harry hadn’t seen until college. Louis glances around the park, hands on his hips and nostalgia radiating off of him. 

“It’s nice.”

Louis nods. “Yeah. I started playing here when I was 4.” 

Harry can picture it. Little Louis with a bat in his hands, too big helmet, sparkling blue eyes ready to just hit the ball. 

“You wanna hit first?” Harry drags the bat out of his bag, handing it over and digging out the game ball from tonight. “You can take out your aggression on my game ball. Hit a home run or something.” 

Louis laughs, loud and genuine. “I’d love to take my aggression out on your balls.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in shock. “Was that a line?”

“Absolutely not, Styles. Now go get on the mound.” Louis smirks, using the handle of the bat to poke at his thigh. 

Harry kicks at the dirt on the mound, clay a little stickier than he usually likes. He rolls his wrists while Louis kicks at his own plate, adjusting his position and bringing the bat up over his shoulder. Harry throws the ball, and Louis nails it on the first swing. It soars over Harry’s head, landing somewhere deep in the outfield. He turns back to Louis, beaming. “You’re incredible.” 

Louis shrugs. “I know. Throw another.”

Harry pitches ball after ball to Louis, watching each one soar through the air. “See what I mean, Louis? No pressure, no stress, we’re just playing and you’ve hit every single ball to the fence line.” 

Louis sighs, “Yeah, it’s just so hard to relax during games. It means everything to me, I can’t...” He pauses, shaking his head. “I can’t not take it seriously.” 

“I’m not saying you can’t take it seriously, Louis. You just can’t put a ridiculous amount of pressure on yourself and ruin it. You suck when you do that to yourself, but right now with no pressure—you’re fucking killing it.” 

Louis kicks the dirt with his cleat and drops the bat. “Alright, you hit now.” 

“Do you know how to pitch?”

Louis scoffs, “Of course I know how to pitch.” 

He does not know how to pitch. Louis throws a ridiculous ball— _so_ far outside of the strike zone—and narrowly misses nailing Harry in the ribs. He jumps out of the way, looking at Louis incredulously. “What was _that_?” 

Louis giggles, shrugging his shoulders. “Okay, maybe I don’t know.”

Harry drops the bat, stalking over to the mound and stepping up behind Louis. “C’mere, Pedro Martinez.” Harry presses flush against Louis’ back and grabs Louis’ wrist, pulling his hand to his own chest to adjust the grip. “You’re holding it all wrong, you need your fingers on the perpendicular seam, not the horseshoe seam, and your grip is too tight. Loosen it, it’ll speed up your release and add more velocity.”

Louis pretends he knows what Harry is saying, too dazed from the feel of Harry pressed so closely. It’s not like he hasn’t felt all of it before, but here—alone on the field he’d grown up on—it feels so intimate. He wants to lean back into his chest and let Harry kiss him exactly how he _needs_ to be kissed. 

Harry pulls his arm into proper position, bringing it back and making sure it’s level. “Okay, when you throw you’re going to make sure you follow all the way through, release at about shoulder height.”

Louis nods, the feel of Harry’s lips brushing the shell of his ear igniting goosebumps across his skin. “Okay.”

Harry holds his hand as he throws, the ball barreling past home plate right in the strike zone. Harry drops his hands to Louis’ hips and squeezes. “Strike one, Tomlinson.”

Louis drops his head back and laughs, his hand resting over Harry’s and squeezing. Harry smiles down at him, their breaths mingling and mouths incredibly close. Louis’ eyes drop to Harry’s lips, licking his own involuntarily. When he realizes, he gasps, straightening up and stepping out of Harry’s grip. “Um, right. I think I got it now. Thanks.”

Harry walks back to the plate and picks up the bat, adjusting his grip and getting into position. “Hit me, baby.”

Louis rolls his eyes, repeating what Harry taught him and pitching the ball. Harry swings and nails the ball, sending it flying over the fence. Louis turns to watch, jaw dropped. “Harry, holy shit! Where is that in the games?”

Harry shrugs when Louis turns to face him again. “I don’t know, I just can’t ever seem to hit the ball.”

“You don’t even _swing_ at the ball hardly. You can obviously hit it, why don’t you?”

Harry shrugs again, the toe of his cleat digging into the dirt. “I can’t seem to get out of my head for it.”

Louis stares at him in shock. “You’re telling me that you can’t hit the ball during a game because you’re overthinking it? Harry, you realize that’s pressure. You’re putting too much pressure on hitting the ball.” 

Harry cringes. “Yeah, I don’t know. I just get really nervous. I’ve never been good at hitting during games.”

Louis steps off the mound and doesn’t stop until he’s toe to toe with Harry at home plate. “Do you remember T-ball?”

Harry nods.

“Do you remember how fun it was to hit the ball off the T? No pressure, just swing as hard as you can and fucking kill it?”

Harry nods.

“You don’t have to overthink it. Just swing as hard as you can, even if you just make contact and it fouls out, you got a piece of it. I know you can hit it, I just saw you do it. You can do it every time, I believe in you.”

Harry’s lips part, his eyes trusting as he nods a final time. “Okay.”

Louis smiles, turning on his heel to go back to the mound. He makes sure to pitch the ball exactly how Harry had shown him every time. A few of the balls slip and drop out of the strike zone but Harry swings every single time, exactly like he should. Louis cheers him on every time he makes contact, and practically throws himself into Harry’s arms when he hits another home run. “See! You just gotta swing! Even if you strike out, you tried!” 

Harry laughs, spinning Louis and nuzzling his face into his neck. “Yeah, I’ll swing every time from now on.” 

“Good.” Harry sets him down. “You’re gonna be unstoppable.” 

“We’re unstoppable,” Harry breathes, beaming so brightly at Louis that it’s blinding. 

Louis smiles shyly and bites his lip, looking around the field at their scattered balls. “We should probably clean up and head home.”

Harry’s eyes follow Louis’. “Yeah.”

They walk towards the outfield, picking up balls and throwing them towards home plate. Louis picks up three near the fence line that Harry had hit, pride swelling in his chest. He turns to smile or say something to Harry, only to find him laid out in the grass on his back.

“Harry?”

He turns his head and smiles at Louis. “C’mere.” 

Louis throws the balls to home before heading over to Harry, dropping to his knees in the grass. “What’re you doing?”

“Lie down. The stars look amazing.”

Louis looks up at the sky, amazed at the amount of stars he can see tonight. It looks like the entire universe has packed all the stars into this one square mile of sky just for them. He turns, lying on his back so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. “Wow.”

“This is what it looks like in my hometown. You can just lie in a field anywhere and the sky is full’a stars.”

“Where are you from?”

“Coldwater, Mississippi. Hour and a half north of Jackson, Mississippi. Middle of nowhere, basically.”

Louis turns his head, watching Harry’s jaw move as he speaks. “When did you start playing?”

Harry smiles, sighing dreamily. “I was a really shy kid and my mama wanted me to make friends, so she signed me up for T-ball.”

“Did you do little league?”

“Yeah for a few years, but Pap made Mama take me out because I just sat in the outfield and picked clovers.” Harry laughs, his smile widening and his dimples making an appearance.

Louis snorts. “Really?”

Harry giggles. “Yeah, he told her I was wasting her time and money. I didn’t really play seriously until high school. I would just play in random fields growing up, we’d ride the four-wheelers out to an empty pasture and just hit some balls.”

“Why’d you join again in high school?”

Harry shrugs his shoulder. “I was bored, figured it’d be fun so I tried out. Made the team and my coach really worked on making me a great pitcher.”

Louis shakes his head. “You really are just a natural talent then, huh? You joined in high school, got into college for baseball after only 4 years of real experience, and came all the way to the Cape for summer league.”

Harry sighs. “I guess, I really wish you didn’t think of it like that.”

“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with being a natural.”

Harry hums. “Yeah, but I feel like you think I’m lazy.”

“Lazy, no.” Louis bites his lip. “I’m just jealous, really. You kind of really get under my skin.”

Harry nods. “Feeling’s mutual, honestly.”

They look at each other for a few long moments, Harry breaking the silence with a soft, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Red, duh.” Louis gives him a _look_.

“Mm, of course. Shouldn’t be surprised.”

“What’s yours?”

“Hmm, probably yellow, or blue.”

“Yankees blue?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, blue like your eyes, Ole Miss blue.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Cheesy.”

Harry giggles, his fingers walking across the grass and brushing against the back of Louis’ hand. “Your turn.”

Louis sighs dramatically. “So much _pressure_.” He pretends to think, tapping his chin. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Hmm, probably barbeque. I can only ever find good barbeque in my hometown. There’s a tiny, tiny restaurant in town that sells the best.”

Louis nods. “I’ve never had it.”

Harry hums, taking a mental note to take Louis one day. “What’s yours?”

Louis sighs, “I don’t know. I feel like seafood is the cliche answer, but I love it so much.”

“Then say seafood, no shame in that. Shit’s good.”

He giggles. “Yeah.” Their fingers crawl over each other’s, not quite lacing together but brushing gently. “Your turn.”

Harry hums thoughtfully. “Favorite movie?”

Louis bites his lip, glancing at Harry. “Don’t laugh.” 

Harry turns his head to look at him. “I would never.”

“Grease.”

Harry nods. “Solid choice. Mine’s the Notebook.”

“Mm, Ryan Gosling.” Louis smirks.

Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Love a man that can work with his hands.” He laces their fingers together at that moment, palms sliding together and lining up. “He’s romantic.”

“If you wanna call it that.” Louis giggles, squeezing Harry’s hand. “Cats or dogs?”

“Hmm, dogs.”

Louis nods in agreement. “I love dogs.”

“Favorite sport _besides_ baseball?” 

“Soccer, one hundred percent.” Louis releases Harry’s hand so he can scoot closer, his head resting on Harry’s firm chest. Harry tugs his arm from underneath his body and drapes it around his shoulder. “I think any other sport is so boring.”

Harry gasps in horror. “You mean you don’t like football?”

“ _No_.”

“But the Patriots are one of the best teams in the world!”

“Bleh. I watch them in the Superbowl once a year but never during the regular season.”

Harry laughs. “You say that like it’s a guaranteed once a year thing.”

Louis sits up just enough to look at Harry, eyebrow raised. “Well isn’t it?”

Harry shrugs. “Fair enough. Football is my favorite, I’m a Packers fan, though.”

Louis lays back down, Harry’s fingers dragging through his hair and scratching his scalp gently. “Not the Saints?”

Harry sighs softly, chest rising and falling under Louis’ head. “Everyone in my house likes ‘em, but I love Green Bay.”

“Quirky Harry Styles, huh?”

Harry laughs. “No, just always felt like they were special.”

“I can appreciate that.” Louis smiles. “Favorite age?”

“Ooh, that’s a tough one.”

“You can only pick one and you have to give me a reason.”

Harry thinks for a good minute before finally deciding. “I think, I think as wild as it seems, I think right now. Twenty-two.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’ve got everything I want and need, I’ve never felt more content in my life than I do right here, right now.” 

Louis can feel the weight of the statement, his heart clenching at the thought that Harry doesn’t just mean this year, but this moment. He lies in silence, just listening to the steady thump of Harry’s heart. Harry assumes he’s thinking of his own answer, caught completely off guard when Louis blurts out, “Tonight was a testament to how much you’ve messed with my head.”

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What?”

“The pressure was so intense tonight, but I also just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Anger, attraction, I don’t really know what it was, but it was there.”

“I’m sorry.”

Louis sighs. “It’s just so distracting.”

“I’ll back off, I promise. I just—” Harry stutters over his words, “You’re so incredible, Louis. I couldn’t help myself. I don’t want to cost you the season though, so I’ll back off.”

Louis bites his lip, turning so he can look up at Harry. “And if I don’t want you to?”

Harry sighs, fingers dragging through Louis’ hair one more time. “Do you want me to back off?”

Louis’ eyes drift back up to the sky, his answer a question mark made out of stars. They lay quietly, Louis’ fingers rubbing his hip in time with Harry’s scalp scratching. 

“Although, maybe if I cost you the season...” Harry teases gently to break the tense atmosphere. 

Louis guffaws, sitting up and shoving his shoulder. “Asshole.”

Harry giggles and shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“Whatever, c’mon. I need my beauty rest before I kick your ass in the game tomorrow.”

“Hm, gonna pay me back and beat me on my own home turf this time?”

Louis kneels forward, his lips just a breath away, nose bumping Harry’s. “Gonna do more than that.”

Harry’s breath stutters. “Yeah? What else?”

“Gonna rub your face in the dirt, too.” Louis sits up, flicks his nose and stands up. “Now c’mon. Help me pick up these balls so we can go.”

Harry lies there another moment, trying to regain his composure after having Louis so dizzyingly vulnerable in his arms. He stands and helps clean up the balls, his game ball long forgotten over the fence. They pack up the bat, heading back for Louis’ car. 

Louis drives them back towards the city, crossing the Charles River into Back Bay to take Harry back to his hotel. They pull up outside, Louis parking and unlocking the doors. He turns in his seat, grabbing Harry’s wrist. “Hey. Thank you for tonight.”

Harry shakes his head. “No, thank you. It... It means a lot to know that you’re going to be out there believing in me.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, um—” Louis starts and stops a few times, debating on whether he really wants Harry to back off or not. He bites his lip, eyes flitting around the car. 

They snap back to Harry’s soft eyes when he cups Louis’ jaw, smiling at him so widely his dimples show. “You’re incredible, baby. Just show me how much you love the game.”

Louis licks his lips, Harry’s eyes tracking the action. He nods minutely. “Yeah, okay.”

Harry leans in ever so slightly closer, licking his lips just as Louis had. Their eyes meet, want overwhelming both of them. Harry drags his fingers up Louis’ jaw and into his hair, tugging just slightly at the nape of his neck. Louis’ lips part around a barely audible gasp, his eyes flickering with need. 

A car horn blares just a couple hundred feet away, ripping the moment away from them painfully. Louis looks over his shoulder, hand dropping Harry’s wrist. “Damn, that’s fucking loud.” 

Harry laughs and turns to grab his bag, pulling on the door handle but stopping to turn once more to Louis. “See you tomorrow for round two?”

Louis giggles. “I hope you’re prepared to eat dirt.”

Harry rolls his eyes, getting out of the car. Louis watches him walk to the door, waving when Harry turns to smile at him one more time. 

When he gets home he sleeps like a baby, feeling like so much weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. 

\--

Louis rests on the bus ride to New York City, headphones in and memories of the night before flashing through his mind. They’re partway through the season, the World Series in sight and within reach. He doesn’t feel as anxious about winning, however, the tension that usually settles in his shoulders isn’t present. He thinks of green eyes, and long curly hair, and _big_ hands on his hips, then slips into a deep sleep. 

Liam wakes him when they arrive at the stadium, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Hope you’re ready to kick some Yankee ass.”

Louis doesn’t see Harry until warm-ups out on the field. He’s tossing the ball with Niall—his catcher—and giggling at whatever he’s saying. Louis runs a few laps around the field before slipping into his dugout and grabbing a bat. Liam grabs a couple balls to practice pitching and heads for the mound, dropping them in the dirt and positioning himself to throw to Louis. 

After hitting ball after ball in Harry’s direction, smiling at him cheekily every time he has to catch it and toss it back to Liam, he finally comes over to say hi. He flicks Louis’ hat with his thumb and middle finger so it tilts up, giving Harry a better look at his eyes, "Hi, baby."

“Howdy, partner.”

Harry laughs, dimples sinking deep into his cheeks and making Louis’ stomach flutter. God, he loves that sound. He can’t stop thinking about that laugh, and that smile, and those eyes. Louis bites his lip, fluttering his eyelashes up at Harry. 

He shakes his head, eyes dropping to his lip. “Distracting me already, Tomlinson? That’s not very fair.”

“I’m not even doing anything, you’re letting your own thoughts distract you.”

Harry hums, giving Louis a once over. “Maybe I am.” He walks back to his own dugout, throwing a wink over his shoulder just to make Louis’ heart skip a beat. 

To be completely honest, Louis is really confused as to when Harry stopped being annoying and started being really attractive.

When Louis steps into the dugout, Liam starts in on him right away.

“So when are you going to actually start dating him?”

“Who?”

“Styles, obviously.”

Louis rolls his eyes, hanging the bat by the entrance of the dugout and wiping his hands on his pants. “I would never.”

Liam scoffs. “C’mon Louis, anyone with eyes can see that you _like_ him.” 

“I do not!”

“You _so_ do! You get all blushy and giggly around him. You just purposefully hit balls in his direction to get his attention!”

Louis throws a batting glove at Liam. “I did not!” 

“Just admit it, Louis. You like him! You have a crush on Harry Styles!”

Louis covers his mouth with his hand. “Fucking shut up for the love of god!” 

Liam’s muffled singing can be heard, “Louis has a crush!” 

“I fucking hate you,” Louis huffs. “Please stop.” 

“I will if you admit you like him.”

“I couldn’t possibly, Liam. Have you met him? He’s a long-legged, long-haired, arrogant, big-headed, lazy _wanker.”_

Liam eventually relents, only slipping quiet jabs in throughout the first inning. Louis ignores him, mostly. Only starting to feel like he’s losing his mind into the fourth and fifth innings. By the sixth inning, however, he’s sure he’s lost it. 

He steps up to the plate, eyes glazing over as he watches Harry chew sunflower seeds, his jaw moving obnoxiously and exaggeratedly. His eyes drag down Harry’s body, settling on his large bulge, accentuated in those sinful pinstripe pants. The lines cut across it just right, curving where he’s thickest. Louis wants to crawl across the dirt on his knees and just take what Harry gives him. 

Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, opening them to find Harry staring at him with a smug expression. He fucking knows. Louis gets into position and waits for the pitch. He swings when Harry throws, missing the ball just barely. Strike one. 

Louis can’t fucking focus now, which is a major issue. All he can think about is how much he’d love to have that calloused hand around his throat. Harry spits on the ground, digging the toe of his cleat in to create mud. Louis feels his cock twitch, pants starting to tighten. He takes a deep breath, trying not to think about Harry spitting on him. His dick, his hole, his mouth. He shifts, trying to stifle the growing arousal in his belly. 

He makes eye contact with Harry again, trying his best not to whine loudly at the look on his face. His chewing has slowed, the wheels turning in his head when he sees how red Louis has gone. Harry’s eyes drag over Louis, lingering on his growing bulge. When their eyes meet again, Harry winks, a dimple carving out his cheek as he repositions for the next pitch. Louis swings, strike two. 

Louis huffs, digging his cleats into the dirt and trying to focus. He squats into position, bat above his shoulder and ready, but again, a swing and a miss. Louis doesn’t even rip his helmet off, too embarrassed to show off his flushed cheeks and blown pupils. He yanks it off once he’s in the dugout, dropping it into the dirt by the entrance and immediately heading for the locker rooms. He can feel eyes on his back, everyone confused about what just happened. 

Louis sits down on a bench when he gets to his locker, his head in his hands as he tries to will his dick to go down. He’s thinking back to freshman year of college when he’d drunk the jungle juice at his first party and proceeded to vomit _everywhere,_ when he hears the door shut. He assumes it’s Liam or another one of his teammates coming to check on him, turning to tell them he’s fine and he’ll be back in a minute. His stomach drops when he sees Harry leaning against the door, his cheeks just as flushed and pupils just as blown as Louis’. 

He stands slowly, hands clasping in front of his body as Harry locks the door. Louis swallows audibly, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what’s about to happen. Harry turns back to him, taking careful steps towards him, only stopping when they’re toe to toe and his mouth is on Louis’. The kiss is rushed, desperate. It’s the kind that makes your toes curl, could make you come in your pants if it goes on too long. 

Louis whines, fingers digging into Harry’s strong biceps. Harry drags his hands down Louis’ sweaty back and gropes his ass. “What do you want, baby?”

Louis bites at Harry’s jaw, his cock fully hard now and begging for attention. “Fuck me.”

Harry groans, so smug to finally be getting what he’s wanted for weeks. “Thought you’d never ask.” Harry unbuckles Louis’ belt, yanking it out of the loops and tossing it to the side. He doesn’t even bother unbuttoning Louis’ jersey, just yanks it over his head and latches his mouth onto his collarbones. 

Louis moans, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. “Fuck.”

“Didn’t think you’d have a thing for _spitting_ ,” Harry teases, licking and sucking Louis’ nipples, fingers digging into his little hips. 

Harry groans when Louis digs his nails in and huffs, “Fuck you.” 

Harry chuckles, shoving Louis’ pants down to pool around his ankles. He snaps the strap to Louis’ jock, face smug and absolutely, completely infuriating. Louis wants to _lick_ him. He yanks at Harry’s jersey, tugging it up until he relents and pulls it off for Louis while he unbuckles his pants. 

Louis pulls his cock out and says with a mixture of shock and amazement, “Really? You don’t even wear boxers?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t do a lot of running. I feel like it inhibits my pitching.”

Louis shakes his head. “Of course, inhibits your ego more like.”

Harry laughs, loud and obnoxious and so fucking cute. “I have a big dick, I like to show it off.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “But do you know how to use it?”

Harry’s eyes darken as he crowds Louis against the lockers. “How about I show you how I use it?”

“I thought that was what we were doing,” Louis whispers breathily. “Little show and tell.”

Harry groans, biting Louis’ lip and plunging his tongue into his mouth. They lick into each other’s mouths, hands dragging across sweaty skin and their moans muffled. Harry squeezes Louis’ hips roughly and turns him so that his cheek is pressed against the cool locker. His dick twitches in his jock, his ass on full display for Harry. He spreads Louis’ cheeks, rubbing a dry thumb over his hole and groaning as it flutters. “Lube, baby?”

“In my locker.”

Harry chuckles. “Love that you keep lube in your locker.”

“Don’t fucking shame me.”

Harry slaps Louis’ ass and turns to open Louis’ locker across the aisle, digging through clothes and bottles until he finds the lube. He slicks up his finger, handing it to Louis. “Hold this, baby.”

“I don’t like holding things during sex, Harry.”

“Just for a moment, baby.” 

Louis sighs moodily and Harry wraps his arm around his waist, swiping his finger over his hole once before pressing the tip in gently. Louis moans, his head dropping between his shoulders and hips pushing back onto the finger. 

Harry nuzzles into his hair. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

Louis bites his lip, giggling quietly. “More, please.”

“Mm, a single finger makes you so polite, can’t wait to see what my cock does.” Harry pushes a second finger in, pumping them slowly and spreading them on each push to stretch Louis. 

He whimpers quietly, back arching sinfully as he leans more weight against the locker. “Fuck.”

Harry works Louis up to three fingers, quirking them on each pump just to hear Louis gasp, his hole clenching each time he brushes his prostate. He tugs on Louis’ rim, shoving his fingertips against his prostate and rubbing hard, quick circles. Louis tilts his head back, screaming loudly and squirming away from the direct contact. Harry groans, pulling his fingers out and pumping more lube into his palm before tossing it back into Louis’ locker and stroking himself. 

He lines himself up and presses forward, his tip sinking into Louis’ hole slowly. It’s overwhelming, his skin prickling at the feeling of Louis’ tight hole around his cock. Harry presses forward, pinning Louis against the lockers again with his hips. Louis whines against the locker doors, his face smushed against them as Harry sinks deeper, his hips flush against Louis’. “Fuck, baby. Feel so good.” 

Louis clenches tightly, his thighs already starting to shake from Harry’s cock. He moans loudly as Harry pulls out, thrusting sharply and rattling the lockers. Harry’s fingers dig into his hips, his lips brushing the shell of Louis’ ear. He thrusts quickly, reaching down to yank Louis’ pants off one leg and grabbing Louis’ thigh to hook it over his arm. “Fucking gorgeous, baby. You look so good taking my cock. The prettiest little hole.” 

He sets his leg down, turning Louis quickly and lifting him. Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, his pants still hanging off one leg, and drops his head back against the lockers when Harry pushes his cock back inside. “Fuck, you’re big.” 

Harry smirks, slapping Louis’ ass and bouncing him on his cock. Louis whines and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck. “Oh my _fucking_ god!” Harry changes his angle, nailing Louis’ prostate and groaning when Louis screams. 

“You think I didn’t know you wanted this? You wanted me?” Harry groans desperately, sucking a hickey into Louis’ throat. “You think I haven’t caught you staring? You think I don’t know exactly how much you’ve wanted me for weeks?” 

Louis sobs, burying his face in Harry’s neck and biting at his collarbones. “No, I haven’t.”

Harry huffs, shaking his head. “Oh, really? I spit on the field and suddenly you’re desperate for me? This hasn’t been building? You didn’t want me to fucking take you out in the field last night? Under the stars, all romantic like?”

Harry shifts again, hitting his prostate over and over and over again. Louis’ eyes roll back, his throat already starting to go raw when he screams, “Yes, fuck. I’ve wanted you.”

Harry moans. “I know, baby. Gonna give it to you, you can have it all.”

Louis whines, dragging his nails across Harry’s shoulders and leaving red marks. Harry squeezes Louis’ ass, slapping with his right hand and groaning when it makes him clench each time. 

Louis bites at Harry’s shoulder, a deep bruise blooming under the surface and making Harry clench his eyes shut. “Fuck, baby. Fuckin’ hurts.” Harry tightens his grip, thrusting harder, “Fuck, you’re so good for me, baby. Never wanna let you go, just wanna keep you naked and covered in my cum.” 

Louis screams, “Fuck, Fuck! I’m gonna come, H!” 

Harry thrusts faster, groaning loudly. “C’mon, baby. Come for me. Wanna hear you scream my name.” 

Louis’ back arches wickedly, his nails digging deeper into Harry’s back. “Harry! Fuck! Oh, shit!” Louis’ thighs shake, cum spilling between them and hole clenching tightly around Harry’s cock. 

Harry screams, “Fuck, baby!” His cock spilling into Louis, pumping his load deep into his hole. He thrusts a few more times, pushing his cum as deep as he can before resting his hands against the lockers, Louis hanging onto him like a monkey. He giggles into Louis’ shoulder, fingers reaching down to tickle his bare side. Louis squeals, dropping his legs from Harry’s waist and dropping down to the ground. 

Louis buries his face into Harry’s chest, both of them panting wildly and shaking from their orgasms. Harry lifts Louis’ chin with his finger, smiling softly down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Louis smiles, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Guess you do know how to use it.”

Harry chuckles deeply. “I told you.”

Louis giggles, leaning up and kissing Harry softly, their tongues brushing gently. Harry pulls back slowly, leaning back in to give Louis three pecks. “You’re so fuckin’ cute.” 

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He shoves Harry back a step so he can take his jockstrap off, covered in his own cum. Harry tucks his cock back into his pants, grabbing both their jerseys and handing Louis’ to him. He tugs his own over his head and tucks it back into his pants, rebuckling his belt and sitting on the bench to watch Louis redress. 

He squeezes Louis’ cock when he goes to tuck it into his pants. Louis hisses in sensitivity, batting his hand away and glaring at him. 

Harry winks. “Can’t help it.”

“You absolutely can.” Louis tugs his jersey on, trying to fix his hair and wiping at the tear stains on his cheeks. “Fuck, how wrecked do I look?”

“Pretty fucking wrecked, baby. You look hot, though. C’mon.” Harry grabs his hand, leading him back out to the dugout. 

The Yankees win, but Louis only feels disappointment for a few moments before he’s smiling at Harry, shaking his hand and telling him, “Good game.”

\--

“Li, I lied. I have met him and he’s a long-legged, long-haired, arrogant, big-headed, lazy wanker and I think I’m in love with him.” 

Liam turns in his chair to look at Louis. “What happened?”

Louis leans forward to push his face between the bus seats. “I can’t feel my fucking legs, Liam.”

Liam’s eyes widen, looking around at their sleeping teammates. “Did this dude fuck you brainless? What is wrong with you?” 

“I think he might’ve! My legs are _jello_ , Liam!”

“Jesus, hush. It can’t have been that big.”

“You try being fucked by something the size of the fucking bats we play with!” Louis hisses, Liam’s face going bright red. 

He huffs, shaking his head at Louis’ dramatics. “There’s no fucking way. It is _not_ that big.”

“Yes it is! I’ll prove it to you!”

Liam turns fully in his seat, his eyebrows scrunched together. “How will you—please don’t.”

“My gaping asshole is proof alone!”

“Louis, please, I do not want to be scarred for life.”

“Well don’t ask then, Liam. What a stupid thing to question!” Louis pulls his phone out to text Harry. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me, like I would lie about that.”

_Hey, send me a picture of your cock. Like the hairspray can challenge or something._

Louis’ phone dings.

_...why?_

_No reason..._

_Tell me why and I will_

_Alright if you don’t wanna_

His phone dings a final time, a picture of Harry’s cock in one hand and a large Evian bottle in the other to compare. Louis giggles, sliding his phone between the gap in the seats to show Liam. “See!”

Liam gasps, holding his phone and staring at the picture, eyes wide. “Louis, oh my god, it’s the size of _you_! How did that not ruin your insides?”

“Well! Didn’t I just say I couldn’t walk?”

He cringes visibly, handing the phone back to Louis. “Your asshole is never going to tighten up again.”

“I’m actually really offended by that, Liam.” 

\--

The Red Sox play The Orioles for their final game to win their division. When the bus pulls up in Baltimore, Louis can actually taste how close they are. He just has to win this game and they’re in the World Series. They exit the bus and head into the stadium, his phone dinging as he enters the locker room. 

_Good luck, baby. Can’t wait to lick your ass in the World Series <3 _

Another ding sounds immediately after.

_Oops *kick ;)_

Louis giggles, sending back a middle finger emoji before shoving his phone in his bag and getting ready for the game. 

They kick ass, Louis hitting not one but two home runs with the bases loaded. The Orioles didn’t have a chance, Liam throwing at ridiculous speeds and the team working in perfect unison. The final score is 10–3, Red Sox. 

\--

The Yankees play the Braves for their final game to win their division. Harry doesn’t start to feel nervous until warm-ups. He’s pitching with Niall, none of his throws even close to the strike zone. By his sixth pitch, his coach comes out to the mound and pulls him aside.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just nervous, I’ll be okay in the game.”

“Okay, well you need to buckle down, Styles. This is serious. You need to focus.” 

Harry nods, his heart in his throat, except then he hears a loud whistle. He looks up into the stands, eyes locking on Louis. He has a huge foam finger and a shirt that reads, “Styles is a Cocksucker”. Harry laughs, shaking his head, his nerves suddenly dissipating and making him feel like he can finally breathe. He throws to Niall, a perfect strike. 

Final score 0–4, Yankees. 

The news is out within minutes, Red Sox v. Yankees to play the World Series. 

\--

When the Red Sox arrive in New York City for the World Series, Louis and Harry convince their friends to go out to celebrate. Liam, Niall, and a few other teammates tag along, Harry giddy with excitement. He’s been planning all week for Louis, so excited to take him out and spend some time with him outside of baseball. 

They walk together to the bar, Louis holding Harry’s hand and clinging to his side as their friends follow closely behind. They’re all laughing, picking on each other, and bickering loudly when Harry stops in front of a door. It’s inconspicuous but very busy, people milling in and out, sweaty and drunk. They descend into the bar, the Wild West theme starting to become clear. They find a table towards the center, a mechanical bull the focal point of the room. 

Louis hasn’t stopped shaking his head. “Harry, what is this?”

“It’s fun! Have you ever ridden one?”

“No, I’m not trying to break my leg.”

Harry laughs. “C’mon, just once.”

“Only if you buy all my drinks tonight.”

Harry smirks. “Of course, baby. Was already planning on it. Gonna spoil my boy.”

Niall glances at them. “You’re so gross. I need alcohol to deal with you both.” 

Liam, however, won’t even make eye contact with Harry and he’s starting to get concerned. He leans over to Louis, whispering, “Have I done something to upset Liam?”

“Huh?”

“Liam. He won’t even look at me hardly, and when he does he looks almost scared.”

Louis glances over to Liam before looking back at Harry in confusion. It suddenly dawns on him. “Oh! I forgot to tell you, I showed Liam that dick pic.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the Evian bottle.”

Harry nods. “Oh, nice. That’s a good one. That doesn’t explain why he won’t look at me though.”

“No that’s why, he’s legit scarred for life after seeing your cock. Your big dick has him scared to death.” 

Harry looks at Liam, then at Louis. “So how did my dick even come up?”

“After we fucked, I could barely walk and I was telling Liam about it and he didn’t believe that you’re as big as the bats we play with—”

“Hang on, as big as the bats we play with?” Harry smirks and Louis watches his ego inflate. 

He rolls his eyes, flicking Harry’s nipple. “Okay, big boy. Calm down.”

“Did I hurt you, baby? Limp for days after I had my way with you?” he drawls, that stupid, smug face inching closer. 

Louis puts his hand over his face, pushing him back. “Get away, weirdo.” 

“I love that you bragged about it. My huge dick destroying your ass and making you so sore for days. That’s so hot.” 

Louis huffs. “Where’s my drink?”

Harry rolls his eyes as he gets up, heading for the bar to get everyone a round. He brings back a vodka Red Bull for Louis, winking at him as he slides it across the table. Louis accepts it gratefully, taking a few sips and leaning back in his chair to watch someone as they mount the bull. They hang on for a few bucks before eventually sliding off the side onto the soft mat. Louis giggles at the obnoxious roar of applause, the overwhelming confidence the room exudes. 

After another two vodka Red Bulls, the idea of getting on the bull is not as far fetched. He turns to Harry, tugging on his arm for his attention. Harry wraps his arm around Louis’ shoulders, kissing his cheek. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’ll ride if you go first.”

Harry turns fully in his chair. “Wait, really?”

Louis nods. “I’m drunk enough now, I think.” 

Harry laughs. “Yeah okay, I’ll go ride it for you.” 

Harry stands, heading for the corral and waiting in line. Louis leans forward, eyes locked on Harry as he mounts the bull and grabs the braided “handle”, if you can even call it that. The machine starts, Harry’s hips roll with the bull, forward and back, side to side. The bull starts to buck faster, Harry’s hips bouncing but he’s staying on, knees dug into the sides. Louis bites his lip, watching Harry roll his hips like that filling his head with thoughts. He’s snapped back to reality when the bull bucks particularly hard and sends Harry flying forward. He does a front roll and lands on his ass, the crowd erupting in applause and laughter. He stands and bows, hands clasped in a prayer position. 

When he returns back to the table he smirks at Louis. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

Louis sighs, standing and heading for the corral. He waits in line like Harry had before mounting the bull and grabbing onto the braided handle. When the machine starts he tries to mimic what Harry had done and relax his hips into it. He rolls them with the bull's movements, letting them sway as the ride sways. He locks eyes with Harry, his lips parting as he digs his knees in to hold on when the bucking starts. He stays low and keeps his legs in tight, hips rolling and grip never leaving the braided handle. 

The crowd cheers louder the longer he stays on, the bull bucking wildly now and spinning in circles. Louis’ ass bounces with each buck, his back arched as he tries to stay low. When it finally bucks him off, he mostly just gets tipped off the side. He slides to the mat gracefully and when he stands the crowd is cheering his name. He glances at Harry, who’s currently whistling loudly and telling everyone around him that Louis is his boy. 

When Louis returns to the table, Harry’s already closed their tab. “Ready to go?”

“Where are we going?”

“Back to my apartment. C’mon.”

“But what about the guys?”

“They know we’re leaving. You’ll see them tomorrow.” 

Louis scoffs, Harry dragging him by his wrist out into the street. “Harry!”

Harry giggles, turning and pressing Louis against the brick wall. “I wanna show you my apartment.” 

“Is that a new nickname for your cock?”

“Wanna hit a home run tonight, baby?” 

Louis groans, “You’re so annoying.”

Harry practically runs home, Louis’ hand in his as they approach the gorgeous brick building. “Damn, it’s so nice.”

Harry smiles at him over his shoulder. “Thanks. I like it.” 

The inside is even nicer, all hardwood and nice appliances, tall ceilings. It’s definitely been renovated in the last few years and Louis’ sure it costs a fortune. Harry scoops Louis up, carrying him to the bedroom and laying him out on the bed. He leans down, capturing Louis’ lips in his and moaning quietly, “You always taste so good.” 

Louis kisses him gently, their tongues sliding together and hands gliding across skin. They start to strip each other slowly, Louis spying Harry’s uniform pressed and ready for tomorrow in the corner. He gives Harry another kiss before sitting up and straddling Harry’s hips. “Wanna see something?”

“Sure.” Harry smiles, Louis gesturing for him to shut his eyes. He listens, Louis getting up and slipping the rest of his clothes off. He grabs the jersey, Yankees blue and white, and slips it over his shoulders. He leaves the buttons undone, grabbing the clean socks and sliding them up his calves so they’re just hitting his knees. 

He stands at the end of the bed—completely nude save for the jersey hanging off his shoulders and the socks—and nudges at Harry’s knee. “Open.”

Harry opens his eyes, only for them to go dark immediately. “Baby.” 

“This is the one and only time I’ll ever wear a Yankees jersey.”

“Mm, my sexy little traitor. C’mere.” 

Louis climbs back onto the bed, straddling Harry’s hips and sitting. Harry drags his hands up Louis’ sock-covered calves to his bare thighs. “Fuck, you’re so sexy.” He kisses him passionately, rolling them and pinning Louis’ wrists above his head. He cups Louis’ cheek, licking into his mouth and moaning, “My gorgeous boy.”

Louis gasps softly. “Harry. Want you.”

“Gonna give you what you want, baby. Don’t worry.” Harry sits up, stripping out of his clothes and sliding the jersey off Louis’ shoulders. When he reaches down to roll his socks off, Harry stops him, “Leave ‘em, they look cute on you.”

Louis giggles, trailing his socked toe up Harry’s toned stomach and firm chest. “You like socked feet?”

“Mm, maybe.”

That reminds Louis, his mind racing. “You know how you said you didn’t expect spit to be a thing for me?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you expect to be a thing for me?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Whips, chains, maybe a sex swing—”

“Harry, seriously.” Louis giggles, kicking at his bicep. 

Harry kneels between Louis’ legs. “Uh, well. I wasn’t too far off, to be honest. I figured you liked it rough, thought you’d like things like choking and filthy sex, biting and scratching. Possessiveness.”

Louis nods. “Impressive. Spend a lot of time thinking about it?”

Harry winks. “You’re so sexy, baby. You've been all I could think about for awhile. Now c’mon, you gonna ride me like you rode that bull?”

Louis huffs. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

Harry laughs, tickling Louis’ side and making him laugh. He leans down and kisses him, fingers sliding down to Louis’ hip and squeezing. Louis moans quietly, his arms wrapping around Harry’s neck. “H.”

Harry hums in response, too busy kissing Louis’ soft skin to reply. Louis sighs softly, dragging his fingers through Harry’s hair and tilting his head back to give him more space. Harry sucks on his collarbones, bites his chest, sucks hickeys into Louis’ soft belly. He drags Louis’ thighs up over his shoulders, kissing and biting his way down and nuzzling the crease of his groin. He licks the skin around Louis’ cock before sucking it down and bobbing his head a few times. 

“F-fuck,” Louis whines, dropping his head back against the pillows and moaning desperately. Harry licks at his balls, sucking on the skin before licking down his perineum and ghosting his lips over Louis’ hole. He licks gently around the puckered skin, dragging the flat of his tongue over his opening over and over again. Louis covers his face with his hands, whining into them and grinding down against the feeling. “Harry, o-oh.”

Harry groans, scooting closer and using his hands to spread Louis’ cheeks wider, licking and sucking on his rim. He pushes the tip of his tongue inside, groaning lowly. He fucks him slowly, savoring the taste and the sounds of Louis. 

He sucks kisses into Louis’ thighs when he pulls back to breathe, reaching over to tug his bedside table open for lube. He slicks up one finger, rubbing the tip over his hole before pushing it inside and pumping it a few times before adding a second. Louis whines, clenching around the fingers and squirming desperately. Harry grabs his wrists, pulling his hands away from his face. “Let me see you, baby. My gorgeous boy.”

Louis is blushing, his cheeks pink and eyes already starting to tear up from how good he feels. 

Harry smiles softly, leaning down to kiss him gently. “Like that? Being my boy?”

Louis whimpers and nods. “Love it.”

Harry groans, plunging his tongue into Louis’ mouth and squeezing a third finger inside his hole. “Good, baby. I want you. I wanna fall in love with you.”

Louis moans, pulling Harry closer. “Show me what it’ll feel like.”

Harry stretches his fingers a few more times before wiping them on the bed and sitting up on his knees, slicking up his cock and positioning it at Louis’ entrance. He pushes in slowly, hovering over Louis and kissing him gently, his cock sinking deeper and deeper until their hips are flush. Harry takes a deep breath, biting at Louis’ jaw and trying to keep his head. He pulls back slowly, both of them groaning at the drag, and thrusts hard. 

He sets a slow but hard pace, his hip bones already starting to ache by the fourth thrust from the power. Harry locks their lips together, licking into his mouth as he fucks Louis hard. He feels tears leak from Louis’ eyes, both of their cheeks wet from them. 

Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s waist, his sock-clad ankles crossing just above his ass and bouncing on each thrust. “Fuck, Harry. Feels so good.”

Harry groans, wrapping his arms around Louis’ shoulders and hauling him closer. “Yeah, baby. Feels so fucking good, you feel so good around me. Taking me so well.”

Louis’ moans rise in volume, Harry shifting his hips and nailing his prostate repeatedly. The sound of their skin slapping and the bed creaking only adds fuel to the fire in the pit of Harry’s belly, his thrusts picking up as they approach their orgasms. 

Louis’ back starts to arch, his thighs shaking and eyes rolling back in his head as he gets closer and closer to the edge. Harry leans onto one elbow and reaches down to wrap his hand around Louis’ cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Louis sobs loudly as tears pour down his cheeks, his cock starting to kick in Harry’s fist as he spurts. Cum covers his belly and drips down Harry‘s knuckles, full-body tremors making everything even more overwhelming. 

Harry groans at the feeling of Louis clenching around him, his hips rabbiting as he falls. He brings his knuckles to his mouth, sucking the cum off of them as he empties into Louis, the taste and the feeling making him dizzy. He licks his hand clean, smiling down at Louis cheekily. “Delicious.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “God.” 

Harry pulls out slowly, kissing Louis gently. They lay together for a few minutes, lazy kisses and soft touches easing them into a comfortable silence. Harry shifts, drying cum making their stomachs stick together. 

Louis wrinkles his nose at Harry, cringing as he says, “Shower?” They both stand, Louis limping to the bathroom. “I hate you so much, I’m going to limp all day. This is sabotage.”

Harry laughs loudly, clapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. “I just did what you asked, baby. You told me to fuck you until you cried.” 

Louis huffs. “Still. Sabotage.”

“Hey.” Harry stops Louis, wrapping his arms around Louis’ waist and pecking his lips once, twice, three times. “What do you think about being my boyfriend?”

Louis scrunches his eyebrows. “What do I think?”

“Mhm.” Harry bumps their noses. “I meant what I said. I want to fall in love with you, Louis.”

The blush is back, sitting prettily on Louis’ cheekbones and making him glow. “I would love that.”

Harry giggles softly, his dimples out in full force. “I would, too. My cute lil boyfriend.”

Louis rolls his eyes, kissing him softly. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t go easy on me tomorrow just cause I’m your boyfriend now.”

Harry smiles wickedly at Louis. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

\--

**World Series, Red Sox vs. Yankees, Game 6, Red Sox: 3 wins Yankees: 2 wins.**

Harry takes a deep breath as he steps onto the mound, his heart racing as he catches a glimpse of the scoreboard high above Yankee Stadium. **Red Sox 0** , **Yankees 0** , top of the third inning. If the Yankees win this game, they’ve tied up the World Series and have a chance at the title, if they don’t then it’s all over. 

Harry tries to focus on the player in front of him, remembering his hesitancy towards knuckleballs. He shakes his head as Niall shifts through each pitch signal, nodding when he lands on knuckleball. He turns to adjust his grip, his glove covering his hand before throwing the ball. The player swings, strike one. Harry pitches a curveball and the player hits it straight down the third-base line and makes it safely to first. Another player makes it safely to first base after him, hitting his ball into the outfield. Then finally, Louis steps up to the home plate. 

He smiles briefly, winking at Niall as he shakes his head through each pitch, landing on a standard fastball. He knows Louis can hit anything, so he just has to settle on fast. He looks at his dugout, his team sat on the bench waiting in anticipation. He takes a deep breath, winds up his arm, and throws. Louis swings, hitting the sweet spot of his bat and sending the ball soaring. Harry turns to watch, already knowing it’s a goner. He cheers Louis on as he runs leisurely around the bases. He rips his helmet off at home base and sticks his tongue out at Harry, his smile blinding. 

Harry turns to readjust his position again, shaking out his wrist when he catches his coach’s eye. He’s being called over, a stern look on the man’s face. He meets him halfway, eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“Don’t cheer him on when he fucking scores on _our_ team, Styles. Got that? It looks like you fucking want him to win.” 

Harry nods. “Sorry Coach, just being a good sport.”

“I don’t care. Don’t do it again.” He turns and stalks back to the dugout, the obvious tension in his shoulders making Harry straighten his back involuntarily. 

Louis giggles as his teammates clap him on the back, their first three runs being added to the scoreboard. 

At the bottom of the fourth inning, Louis feels the nerves starting to settle in his stomach again. A Yankee hits a home run, tying the game up and setting the crowd on edge. He’s playing the field, trying to keep an eye on the man on first base while keeping an eye on the player hitting at home. His stomach flips as the man hits the ball, sending it straight for Louis at chest level. He raises his glove just in time, catching the ball before it hits him and shatters his collarbone or something. He throws the ball back to Liam, the player walking back to the dugout in defeat. Another round of players attempt to make it past Liam’s nasty pitches, only two more runs being scored in the inning. 

During the sixth inning, the score is tied and Louis’ hands are sweating profusely. He steps up to home plate, locking eyes with Harry which only confirms that he’s just as nervous. He gulps, squatting into position after tapping the base with his bat and digging his cleats into the dirt. Harry shakes his head a few times before nodding, winding up his arm and throwing. The ball is flying towards him, only a split second before Louis swings and hits it. He watches as it goes up over the players’ heads and lands over the fence. Louis huffs, rolling his eyes at the empty bases and does his single lap. One run. 

The bottom of the eighth inning, Harry fucking nails Liam’s curveball and sends it flying over the fence. Louis slaps his hand when he runs by, blushing at the feeling of Harry squeezing as he releases. He can’t contain himself, beyond proud of his boy. 

Top of the ninth inning is by far the scariest moment of Louis’ entire life. The Red Sox are down by two and they’ve got one out, bases loaded. Liam steps up to the plate to hit, everyone holding their breath. Pitch one, Liam swings and fouls it. Pitch two, Liam swings and misses. Pitch three, Liam swings and misses. Pitch four, Liam swings and hits the ball straight down the first baseline. He runs fast, faster than Louis’ ever seen him run, but he’s not fast enough for the first baseman and the right fielder. They tag him out, Liam huffing and turning to run back to the dugout. 

Louis pushes his helmet onto his head, terrified to step out there and disappoint Red Sox fans everywhere. He digs his cleats into the dirt, not even making eye contact with Harry yet so he can focus on the game. He feels like he’s going to throw up, then he looks up and makes eye contact, his nerves suddenly disappearing. Harry’s words ring through his head, _“Why don’t you try just playing. Just enjoy the game. You’d be unstoppable if you just played because you love it.”_

Louis loves this game, that man on the mound, his team, his city. If he loses, there’s always next year. He takes a deep breath, nodding his head at Harry and letting all the tension go. Harry winds up his arm and throws a knuckleball. Louis swings but is just shy. He taps the base with his bat and rolls his neck, _enjoy the game_. He looks up at Harry, noticing the huge smile on his face. He winds up his arm and as he releases it, Louis already knows he’s going to hit a home run. He can feel it in his fingers, the way they’re already tingling. He hits the ball right in the sweet spot of his bat, the vibrations shooting up his arms. He drops the bat and runs, watching as the ball flies over the fence. He throws his head back and laughs as he runs, ripping his helmet off as he approaches home plate and stomps on it.

Bottom of the ninth, the Yankees’ final chance to win and the Red Sox are up by two. The first player steps up to the plate and strikes out. The second player steps up to the plate and hits the ball into the outfield, the left outfielder catching it. Harry steps up to the home plate, squatting into position and bringing the bat above his shoulder. Louis sways back and forth in ready position, smiling at his boy as he swings at every single pitch Liam throws. The final pitch he hits, a grounder that rolls straight past the second baseman into the outfield. Harry runs, his feet hitting first base before the player can catch the ball. Louis claps, hooting for Harry before going back to his position. 

The next player steps up, his hands shaking as he positions himself. Liam throws, swing and a miss. He throws again, swing and a miss. Another throw and the player fouls the ball, hitting it past the first base markers. Liam throws another ball, the player swinging and missing one last time. Three strikes, you’re out. 

Louis drops his glove in shock. “Oh my god.” 

The second baseman slaps Louis on the back. “Bro!” 

His team runs towards Liam, jumping on each other and shouting, but Louis runs towards Harry. He jumps into his arms, shouting and cheering as Harry twirls him, “Holy fuck we won!”

“You won, baby! So proud of you!”

Louis feels the tears racing down his cheeks, his stomach flipping over and over in complete joy. Harry hoists him up onto his shoulder as he carries him over to his team and cheers with them, shaking their hands and laughing as each player slaps Louis’ ass. He sets him down, someone handing Louis a bottle of champagne to pop. 

Louis hands it to Harry to open, hugging Liam tightly and screaming loudly. Harry pops the bottle and grabs Louis’ waist, dipping him as he pours champagne into his open mouth. Louis laughs, the champagne pouring all over his face and getting into his hair where his hat has been knocked off somewhere along the way. Harry yanks Louis back up, kissing him firmly on the lips, licking the champagne out of his mouth. Louis squeals, digging his fingers into Harry’s arms. He can feel rather than hear the stadium erupt in cheers, the vibrations making the ground shake and sending his heart rate skyrocketing. This is what winning it all feels like. 

Harry pulls back, both of their smiles blinding. “Congrats, baby. So fucking proud of you.”

“Thanks to you.”

Harry shakes his head. “No. No, darling, this is all you. I told you if you played for the love of the game you’d fucking smash it every time.” 

Louis shakes his head, yanking Harry back down into a kiss. “Fuck, I’m crazy about you.” 

Harry laughs and pecks his lips. “Crazy about you too, baby. Always have been. My little World Series champion.”

\--

_Two years later_

Sweat drips down Louis’ face, his heart hammering in his chest as he tunes out the screaming crowd. He drags the toe of his cleat over the plate, dropping the bat to tap it twice before bringing his arms up. He squats lower in his stance, rolling his wrists and lifting his head to make eye contact with the pitcher. Harry Styles, one of the best pitchers in the league, age 24, New York Yankee. 

Louis’ lip snarls involuntarily, his blue eyes fierce as he stares the tall man down. Harry smirks cockily, shaking his head minutely at his catcher twice, nodding the third time. Louis shifts on his feet, hips swaying as he adjusts his grip. Harry looks away quickly before winding his arm up, lifting his leg, and throwing the ball at a shocking speed. Louis swings, getting a piece of the ball but fouling it. 

The catcher grabs the ball, throwing it back to Harry before dropping back into position. They start the process over again, Louis dragging his toe against the plate and rolling his wrists, shifting his stance. Harry pitches the ball again, a curveball comes flying towards the plate. Louis swings, nailing the ball right on the sweet spot of his bat, the vibrations making his fingers go numb as he drops the bat and takes off towards first base. He watches the ball soar through the air, she’s a goner. Home run. 

Louis does his victory lap, Fenway Park erupting in cheers as he shakes his arms over his head. Bottom of the 9th and he’s just hit the winning run. He slows as he approaches home plate, taking the final step and ripping his helmet off, screaming loudly. His team slams into him, his feet no longer touching the ground as the men lift Louis and shake him, slapping his ass and cheering loudly. The crowd is screaming “Dirty Water” signaling a Red Sox victory! 

Louis breaks free from the crowd, running towards the mound and launching himself at Harry. He’s scooped up into big, strong arms and Harry’s mouth is on his. He giggles into his mouth, Harry slapping Louis’ ass over and over. They pull back, Harry punching the air. “Yeah!” 

Louis and Harry sing along with Fenway Park, their hearts beating double time and smiles blinding. Harry sets Louis down, keeping him tucked under his arm as they scream. Harry has never felt more proud, his boy tucked under his arm and his heart full. 

They’re already a power couple in the MLB, two World Series wins under their belts, and the whole world at their feet. And they’re only just getting started.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, please leave a comment and kudos if you did. <3


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